European warfare 1660-1815 - black

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European warfare, 1660–1815

Warfare and History

General Editor Jeremy Black Professor of History, University of Durham Forthcoming Rhoads Murphey Ottoman warfare, 1500–1700 John Thornton Warfare in Atlantic Africa, 1500–1800 Spencer Tucker The Great War, 1914–18 Peter Wilson German armies: war and German society, 1648–1806

European warfare 1660–1815 Jeremy Black University of Durham

© Jeremy Black, 1994 This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. No reproduction without permission. All rights reserved. First published in 1994 by UCL Press UCL Press Limited University College London Gower Street London WC1E 6BT This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2003. The name of University College London (UCL) is a registered trade mark used by UCL Press with the consent of the owner.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 0-203-49942-5 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-56111-2 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBNs: 1-85728-172-1 HB 1-85728-173-X PB

Contents

List of maps Preface Abbreviations

vii viii x

1 European warfare and its global context

1

2 Weaponry and tactics

38

3 Decisiveness

67

4 Warfare 1660–1721

87

5 Warfare 1721–63

119

6 Warfare 1763–91

148

7 Warfare in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic age 1792–1815

168

8 Social and political context

210

9 Conclusions

234

Notes Select bibliography Index

239 265 271

v

For Matthew Anderson and Michael Hill

List of maps

Europe, 1660

90–91

The world: Europe overseas, 1763

146–7

Central Europe, 1786

150–51

The American Revolution, 1775–83 War in Europe, 1792–1815

160 178–9

India, 1756–1805

202

vii

Preface

War, its conduct, cost, consequences, and preparations for conflict, were all central to both European history in the period 1660–1815 and to the course of relations between European and non–European peoples and states. Much fine work has been written by numerous other scholars on a subject which is not easy to encompass briefly. In order both to seek brevity and to offer a distinctive account, this study has been given a particular theme. European warfare is seen not only in terms of conflict in Europe, but also in conflicts that have involved European peoples, and due attention is devoted to the latter outside the confines of the continent, because oceanic and transoceanic conflict between European powers was of central importance in global history. British victories over the French on the waters of the world and in India and North America played a crucial role in the history of these areas, and more generally in both global and European history. Secondly, warfare between European and non-European peoples was largely responsible for the shift in power towards the former in this period. This shift took various forms: the alteration in the balance between “West” and “East” as the Turks were driven back in the valley of the Danube from 1683 was very different in its causes and consequences from the first European settlement in Australasia just over a century later. The common theme was the ability of European powers to deploy strength effectively. Warfare also played a fundamental role in what can be seen as a third theme: the creation of independent transoceanic states by peoples of European descent. At the same time that the power of European states was being extended in the New World—on the Pacific seaboard of North America—the vast colonial territories that had been claimed and fought over since Columbus set foot in the Bahamas in 1492 were collapsing in the face of successful rebellions: the thirteen British colonies on the east coast of the modern USA viii

PREFACE

in 1775–83; Argentina in 1810; Venezuela in 1811–21; and Peru in 1821–4. Thus the significance of European warfare can only be grasped if it is seen in a global context. This has the additional advantage that it ensures that naval forces and warfare are not marginalized, but are, instead treated as an integral aspect of European military power. This book is an attempt to offer an account that complements a number of fine studies still in print. In particular, it takes forward Geoffrey Parker’s excellent The military revolution. Military innovation and the rise of the West 1500– 1800 (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1988) which had relatively little to say about the period after 1660. For reasons of space, quotations, references and bibliography have been kept to a minimum and material not written in English has largely been omitted. Unless otherwise stated, place of publication for books in the notes is London. I would like to thank Matthew Anderson, David Davies, Christopher Duffy, Charles Esdaile, Robert Gooren, Michael Hill, Geoffrey Parker, John Plowright, Cliff Rogers, Dennis Showalter, Armstrong Starkey, John Stoye, Hew Strachan, Spencer Tucker, Peter Wilson, and two anonymous readers, for commenting on all or part of this work. I am grateful for opportunities to develop some of the ideas advanced here in papers read at the universities of Auburn; British Columbia; Colorado (Boulder); Illinois (Chicago); Illinois (Urbana); Manchester; Oxford; North Texas; Victoria; and Yale; and at Harlaxton College; Stillman College; the Royal Military College of Canada; and the United States Air Force Academy; also Lethbridge, McMaster, Simon Fraser, Western Ontario, Wilfrid Laurier, Texas Christian, Rice andWesleyan (Normal) universities. Earlier versions of sections of Chapters 1 and 3 appeared in C.J.Rogers (ed.), The military revolution debate (Boulder, Westview, 1994) and in War in history (1994). I am most grateful to the British Academy and the University of Durham for supporting my research, and to the Earl of Shelburne and Richard Head for permission to quote from the papers of the 2nd Earl and those of Sir James Bland Burges respectively.

ix

Abbreviations

Add. Additional manuscripts AE.CP. Paris, Archives du Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Correspondance Politique BB Bland Burges papers BL London, British Library Bodl. Oxford, Bodleian Library CRO County Record Office Eg. Egerton manuscripts FO Foreign Office HL San Marino, California, Huntington Library IO London, India Office Records PRO London, Public Record Office SP State papers WO War Office

x

Chapter One European warfare and its global context

On 12 February 1756 a British naval squadron under Rear-Admiral Charles Watson demanded the surrender of Gheria, the stronghold on the west coast of India of the Angrias, a Maratha family whose fleet was a factor in local politics and had been used for privateering attacks on European trade in Indian waters. When the Indians opened fire, Watson “began such a fire upon them, as I believe they never before saw, and soon silenced their batteries, and the fire from their grabs [ships]”. The five-hour bombardment also led to the destruction ofTulaji Angria’s fleet, which was set ablaze with shells. On 13 February the warships closed in to bombard the fort at pistol-shot distance in order to make a breach for storming. This led to its surrender. British casualties were slight: 10 dead and 17 wounded; and Watson noted, “the hulls, masts and rigging of the ships are so little damaged, that if there was a necessity we should be able to proceed to sea in twenty four hours”. The episode was significant for a number of reasons. It reflected the confidence of the British in their naval power. The previous autumn, Watson, who had been delighted to show his flagship HMS Kent to the Nawab of Arcot, had emphasized the rôle of his warships as artillery-vessels: “if I can come near enough to batter… I shall make no doubt of success, but if by the shoal water, the large ships cannot come within distance to do execution, it will be doing of nothing”. The resources at the disposal of the British were also clear: George Thomas noted “We in [HMS] Salisbury fired 120 barrels of powder”. Watson was supported by a body of troops under Robert Clive and by the Bombay marine under Commodore William James. The previous year James’ flotilla had similarly forced the surrender of Angria’s bases at Severndaroog and Bankot. Help that had been promised by allied Marathas did not, however, materialize. George Thomas’s conclusion was redolent of confidence in European superiority: “A fine harbour…in the hands of Europeansmight 1

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

defy the force of Asia.” Yet the episode also pointed in another direction. Watson noted, The walls are very thick, and built with excellent cement, and the best stone I ever saw for such a purpose. We found upwards of two hundred guns here of different sizes, twenty three of which are brass, and six of them new field pieces with elevating screws, so that Angria was not without European friends, notwithstanding he was so common an enemy. There were also six brass mortars…and a sufficient quantity of ammunition of all kinds…had the garrison been provided with men of spirit and knowledge it must have been a much dearer purchase to us. Watson reported that Angria had been building a 40-gun warship. Angria’s weaponry indicated the extent to which European military technology could be adopted in order to create a potentially formidable opposition different from that posed by campaigning outside Europe. More specifically, the destruction of Angria’s power cut short the development of an (admittedly small) Indian naval power. Such power was a rare occurrence in the period 1660–1815,1 although the Omani Arabs were a formidable naval power in the later seventeenth century, with large and well-armed ships able to contest Portuguese power in the western Indian Ocean. As Britain established its power in India in the eighteenth century, clashes occurred with native naval forces. In February 1775 two British warships encountered a Maratha squadron “of five large ships and two ketches with some gallivats”. The five large ships mounted 26–40 guns, the ketches two guns. The Maratha ships scattered and the British ships engaged the largest. It was fired on from within pistol range by our “great guns and small arms, some few of both were returned by the enemy, but far short of what might reasonably have been expected from a vessel of her force”. Maratha hopes of boarding a British warship were thwarted by its gunfire, and the Maratha ship blew up with no British casualties. In December 1780 Rear Admiral Sir Edward Hughes found the fleet of France’s ally, Haidar Ali of Mysore, off Mangalore. Covered by gunfire from British warships and in the face of fire from coastal positions, the ships’ boats of the British squadron moved in and successfully boarded the two leading Mysore warships, boats of 26 and 24 guns. In 1783 John Macpherson, a senior official of the British East India Company, wrote that British forces had taken ports belonging to Mysore, “in some of which we have found the materials and great advancement of a very considerable naval power”. Mysore, however, was very much a land power, its fleet was lightly gunned and small, and Britain rarely encountered serious naval resistance from Indian rulers.2 The particular characteristics of European strength on a world scale werenot 2

THE ROBERTS THESIS

so much the use of gunpowder weaponry as the “organisational cohesion and staying power of their state and corporate organizations”,3 and the ability to deploy, entrench and maintain power in distant continents; a function of naval dominance and of the resources and priorities that entailed. Initially, this meant the Iberian powers, Portugal and Spain, but, from the late seventeenth century, it was increasingly true also of the clash between Britain and France. The rise of European states to a position of power across the oceans and around much of the globe was the military/political change that most deserves the description of a military revolution but, when the thesis was advanced, it was one that was neglected in favour of changes in European land warfare.

The Roberts thesis The single most influential concept in studies of early modern warfare has been that of a military revolution. It was based on a lecture by Michael Roberts delivered in 1955 and published the following year. Roberts argued that there was a mutually sustaining relationship between the professionalism required by tactical changes and the rise of larger and more permanent military forces of the state. Roberts stated that changes in tactics, strategy, the scale of warfare and its impact upon society, which had their origins in the United Provinces (the modern Netherlands) at the end of the sixteenth century and culminated in the Sweden of Gustavus Adolphus (1611–32), deserved the description “revolutionary”. They led, in the short term, to the creation of a Swedish army that brought striking military success in the Thirty Years’War (1618–48), and, in the long term, to the creation of armies that were an effective force of statecraft, both domestically and externally. These are believed to have facilitated the development of “absolutist” states by shifting the balance of domestic military power towards sovereigns and away from their subjects.4 Thus, the thesis of the military revolution can be characterized not only as a “statement of technological determinism”, but also as a repetition of “the Whiggish notion that gunpowder blasted the feudal order at the behest of the centralized state”.5 Tactical changes pioneered in the Dutch army were crucial to the thesis. The rise in infantry firepower in the sixteenth century with the development of hand-held firearms led Count Maurice of Nassau (1567–1625) and his cousin, Count William Louis, to put into practice the notion of using a volley technique in order to maintain constant fire. This was related to a standardization in Dutch weaponry, and the creation of a disciplined field army.6 3

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

Gustavus followed in having his troops fight in line, but he also stressed the importance of attack. He used the countermarch (the manoeuvre by which musketeers rotated their position by moving through the ranks of their colleagues, so that, having fired, they could retire to reload while others fired) offensively, the other ranks moving forward through stationary reloaders. He also trained his cavalry to charge in order to break the opposing formation by the impact of the charge and the use of swords, rather than to approach more slowly and fire guns from horseback. Firing by rank and more complex manoeuvres required more discipline and training, and these could best be ensured by maintaining permanent forces, rather than hastily hiring men at the outbreak of wars. The new ar mies tur ned infantr y firepower into a manoeuvrable winning formula, and thus enhanced the value of larger armies over fortifications, but these more substantial forces required a level of administrative support, in the supply of money, men and provisions, that led to new governmental institutions and larger financial demands. Roberts also argued that armies enhanced monarchical power sufficiently to ensure that in most states an effective royal monopoly of power was created. This monopolization furthered and was furthered by a militarization of society that owed much to military service, including the growth of noble officership and of conscription, and to the centrality of military needs in government. Military requirements and ethos integrated society and the state. Thus, the modern art of war, with its large professional armies and concentrated yet mobile firepower, was created at the same time as—and, indeed, made possible and necessary by—the creation of the modern state. Roberts’ theory was useful in offering a conceptual framework within which early modern warfare could be discussed. It provided an alternative to a narrative account, and one that at once addressed the central questions of change (or, its opposite, continuity) and the causes and consequences of change. The concept was also fundamental in that it addressed narrow military questions, particularly about tactics and training, in a fashion that apparently directly brought out their wider implications for issues of governmental and political development. This was crucial because the relationship between military innovation and “state formation”, or at least domestic political history, is one that has to be put alongside the more conventional account of the military aspects of inter-state competition. Furthermore, the thesis of a military revolution was well suited to the approach towards “state formation” that was dominant in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. This approach emphasized coercion and force and thus focused on qualitative and quantitative developments in the armed forces at the disposal of central governments and the consequent ability of these governments to establish absolutist regimes. In the 1980s, however, both absolutism and 4

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

earlymodern European state formation have been redefined, for example in William Beik’s Absolutism and society in seventeenth-century France (Cambridge, 1985), away from an emphasis on coercion and, instead, towards one on a greater measure of consensus, at least within the elite. This has important implications for the study of early modern military history, not only because the purpose of military change requires re-examination, but also as its process needs re-consideration. The extent to which more effective military forces reflected not more autocratic states but rather crown-elite co-operation is more apparent. The use of the concept of a military revolution in the early modern period was redated by Geoffrey Parker to the period 1450–1530,7 and subsequently greatly advanced in his The military revolution. Military innovation and the rise of the West, 1500–1800, for with valuable insights based upon incredibly wideranging knowledge, Parker located European developments in the wider global context of “the rise of the West”, although, as he made clear, this was far from being a smooth process in military terms. Parker’s work was even more valuable because most of the work on the rise of the West, not least Immanuel Wallerstein’s thesis in his Modern world system (New York, 1974, 1980) of relationships based on zones of exploitation, adopted a somewhat crude economic causation that neglected military factors or treated them as a necessary consequence of other power relationships.

The Roberts thesis questioned The Roberts thesis is, however, questionable on a number of grounds, both methodological and empirical, more particularly as a description and analysis of what happened in 1560–1660 and because of what Roberts implies about the periods on either side. Indeed, an analysis of these periods lends additional force to a critique of Roberts’ thesis. As is now becoming clearer, medieval European warfare was not static and unchanging; quite the contrary, it can be seen as evolving and modernizing steadily, or an emphasis can be placed on a number of important shifts. Clifford Rogers has recently drawn attention to what he terms “the Military Revolutions of the Hundred Years’ War”. 8 Conversely, it has been argued that in the case of medieval Kano, now part of Nigeria, “it is possible to discern a steady development over several centuries in the complexity and variety of weapons, tactical innovations, state structure, and military organization”.9 A military revolution is only conceivable against preceding stasis or limited change. Gunpowder clearly brought significant change to fourteenth-century warfare and change continuedthereafter at 5

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

varying rates, but gunpowder did not introduce change to medieval European warfare. As far as contemporaries were concerned, it was, however, the spread of gunpowder weaponry that was most obviously revolutionary, and this interpretation was maintained in subsequent centuries. In 1761 the British writer Campbell Dalrymple had no doubt that his readers would understand what he meant when he argued that contemporary criticism of firepower and calls for the use of cold steel in its place, might “produce another military revolution, and send us back to the arms in use before the invention of gunpowder”.10 An emphasis on the development and diffusion of gunpowder weaponry in Europe would, however, lead to a stress on the period before that highlighted by Roberts. Roberts’ thesis can also be queried by considering the subsequent 130 years. In focusing, in my A military revolution? Military change and European society 1550–1800 (London, 1991), on the period after 1660, I was motivated by a sense that this had been neglected, not only in terms of what happened then, in both a qualitative and a quantitative sense, but also of the significance of these developments. An examination of this period, most commonly known as the ancien régime, throws light both on the previous century and on the subsequent period of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars of 1792–1815. If the themes of change and continuity are to be addressed in studying 1560–1660 and 1792– 1815, then it is crucially necessary to consider ancien regime warfare, as claims of change are often made for 1560–1660 and 1792–1815 in the context of misleading assumptions about the stagnation, indecisiveness and conservatism of ancien régime warfare. These assumptions are only a part of a more general historiographical neglect of change in the ancien régime that rest in part on the ver y conceptualization of that period, and indeed on the connotations of its linguistic description. In crude terms, the general model is of a resolution of the mid-seventeenth-century crisis in the shape of absolutist states and societies, the subsequent stability of which was a crucial component of the ancien régime, but one that was faced in the late eighteenth century by a new general crisis, the most obvious manifestation of which was the French Revolution.11 Thus the chronology of military change is apparently matched by a more general political chronology, although there has been no attempt to relate the two. This analysis is, however, problematic in both ways. If too static an interpretation, in both political and military terms, is adopted for the ancien régime, then major change must be sought and explained in the late eighteenth century. Conversely, if the emphasis is rather on a more dynamic, fluid or plastic ancien régime or early modern period, then it is less necessary to focus on change or the causes of change in the late eighteenth century.12 6

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

This dynamism can indeed be demonstrated by arguing that the earlymodern military revolution requires reconceptualization. Rather than adopting the notion of a single revolution (the Roberts thesis), it is more accurate to suggest that, if early modern changes can be described in terms of revolution, there were two “revolutions”, one in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, and the other in c. 1660–c. 1720. The first has been ably described by Parker, with his emphasis on firearms and the trace italienne, but because he both failed to break free from Roberts’ model and neglected to consider the post-1660 period, he gave the misleading impression that the Roberts thesis could be sustained and amplified by his own emphasis on the preceding period. Instead, it is apparent from a consideration of seventeenthcentury warfare that the major changes took place after 1660, and it can be argued that Roberts’ century was in relative terms one of limited change between two periods of greater importance. There are, however, problems in using the term “revolution” to describe the kinds of changes that took place over many decades. Many of the changes that occurred between 1660 and 1720 were gradual and furthermore there were differences between states. Thus the Dutch Republic strengthened its naval forces, but also strongly neglected its land forces. They paid dearly for this when the French invaded by land in 1672. Contemporary writings do not suggest remarkable differences in warfare for the decades on either side of 1660. Nevertheless, relative domestic peace and stability after 1660 increased revenues and allowed for expansion in military and/or naval organizations. The principal changes in c. 1660–c. 1720 were both qualitative and quantitative. The replacement of the pike by the newly developed socket bayonet, the substitution of the matchlock musket by the flintlock, and the development of the pre-packaged cartridge increased infantry firepower and manoeuvrability. It led also to a decline in the relative importance of cavalry in most European armies. The development of the socket bayonet, of the flintlock musket, and of improved warship design brought about qualitative changes in warfare at least as important as those of Roberts’ period, and arguably more so, with their consequence of a rise in the tactical importance of massed firepower in both land and naval warfare. The corresponding quantitative changes— considerably larger armies and fleets—confirm the conclusion that the later period has been unduly neglected. Navies provide some of the best indicators of change in the period 1660– 1720. The development of line-ahead tactics greatly altered naval warfare, not only tactically, but also by increasing the importance of heavily gunned ships of the line, and thus of the states able to deploy and maintain substantial numbers of such ships. In 1639, at the Battle of the Downs, the attack in line-ahead was first executed in European waters and the Dutch won a major victory over 7

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

Spain. The English fleet was ordered in 1653 to use the line-ahead formation pioneered by the Dutch. The new fighting instructions for the Dutch fleet issued in 1665 laid down that fighting be done in a single line of battle. In 1666 the signal for forming line of battle was added to the general signal book, thereby completing the adoption of line-ahead tactics by the Dutch navy. Qualitative changes, i.e. line-ahead tactics, were accompanied by, indeed required, due to the stronger emphasis on gunnery, greater specialization in warships, so that, with the exception of privateers and the heavily armed East Indiamen, merchantmen were no longer used as warships. As battles played a larger rôle in naval conflicts in the period 1652–77 than earlier in the century, there was a greater stress on the fighting power of the large warships that dominated battles. In the 1660s really large two-deckers, ships with a displacement tonnage of 1,100–1,600 tons, largely armed with 24-pounders, were constructed in numbers. The Dano-Swedish war of 1675–9 was the last in European waters in which armed merchantmen were used to any considerable extent in the main battle fleets: armed only with 12-pounders, the Swedes found them obsolete. There was also a shift from bronze to cast-iron guns, as advances in cast-iron technology provided cheap and dependable heavy guns. Furthermore, there were significant developments in the size of several navies, as a number of western European states invested heavily in naval power. The Dutch, English and, from the 1660s, the French, substantially increased the size of their fleets in the 1650s–80s and the power of their gunnery also rose appreciably. New bases were created, for example, by the French, at Lorient, Rochefort and Brest, while Dunkirk and Toulon were enlarged. Advanced shipbuilding techniques were introduced and in about 1680 the French engineer Renau d’Elicagaray developed the bomb-ketch, a very useful warship for attacking positions on land. A professional naval officer corps was developed. Under an ordnance of 1689 calling for larger and more powerful ships, France launched ten warships in 1691, all of at least 88 guns. 13 The strongest navy Sweden had hitherto possessed was constructed in the 1680s and 1690s. Accounts of the English navy make it clear that, although there had been appreciable developments in the sixteenth century, they were dwarfed in terms of numbers of warships, tactics and naval organization by those in the second half of the seventeenth century. 14 In the early eighteenth century these developments were followed by the launching of Russia as a naval power under Peter the Great and the dramatic revival of Spanish naval strength and organization under Philip V.15 Thus larger “standing navies” were a feature of the late seventeenth century. There are major problems in producing aggregate totals of European warships: the lists in George Modelski and William Thompson’s Seapower in global politics, 1494–1993 (London, 1988) exclude 8

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

several important second-rank naval powers, most obviously Denmark and Sweden, and revise upwards the number of guns required for a ship to be counted. J.Glete’s study is more thorough and comprehensive, although it is necessary to exercise care in using his figures, especially because of the issue of effectiveness. For example, he gives the number of Swedish “battleships and cruisers” in 1800 as 24, but a contemporary memorandum noted, “24 ships of the line whereof 18 are serviceable. The others are old and out of repair but may serve as guard or block ships”. It is, nevertheless, clear that, despite falls in the naval strength of particular powers (for example, the French navy in the 1710s), aggregate numbers rose appreciably in the late seventeenth century, and then again in the eighteenth.16 On the eve of the French Revolutionary Wars, there was a vast naval arms race in the 1780s which involved every would-be sea power from Naples to Russia, as well as the established powers: Britain, France, Spain and the Dutch. In 1790 the ships of the line of Britain, France and Spain had a combined displacement tonnage of 729,000 compared to 550,000 in 1775. These large, permanent naval forces and their increasingly sophisticated administrative and logistical support systems were a critical factor in enabling European powers to secure their overseas empires. As in the age of Portuguese and Spanish expansion (1490–1550), but now even more so, no non-European power could match this force and the systems that created and, crucially, sustained it. Similarly, larger standing armies developed in the century after the Roberts period. The bulk of the growth occurred in the later period and it was of such an order that it cannot be described simply in terms of the continuation of already established patterns of growth. Again there are problems with counting numbers and, in particular, effectives, 17 and it is necessary to exercise considerable caution even when using oft-cited figures. One of the most useful, and necessarily collective, projects that military historians could engage in would be the production of an authoritative data bank on army strengths in the early modern period. Contemporaries had no doubt that the rise of armies was exaggerated and that many units were incomplete. Thus, the theoretical size of the Portuguese army in 1761 was 31,000; the actual numbers were 16,500.18 Accepting these caveats, it is, nevertheless, clear that the army sizes of the major powers rose dramatically in the period 1660–1720, particularly during 1680–1710. This was certainly true of Austria, France and Russia, and was also true of second-rank powers, particularly Britain, Prussia and Savoy-Piedmont. The French army was cut after the War of the Spanish Succession finished in 1714, but in the period 1720–80 the size of the Austrian, Prussian and Russian armies continued to grow appreciably although this was nottrue of that of Sweden, while a number of German states, including Bavaria and Saxony, had smaller peacetime armies in the late eighteenth century than they had had at its 9

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

start. The army of Savoy-Piedmont did not maintain its earlier growth. Indeed, the expansion of c. 1680–c. 1710 was such that many states in the subsequent period of peace were badly affected by indebtedness; a major consequence of this was a retraction in army strength. In contrast, the subsequent prominence of Prussia owed much to its ability to maintain its growth in army size. Larger armies and navies encouraged the development of more professional officer corps. There were also important improvements in 1660–1720 in military and naval administration, especially in the ways in which armies and navies were trained, equipped, paid and controlled by their governments. The French19 and Prussian armies were obvious examples, although it would be a mistake to exaggerate the administrative sophistication and standards of the period, not least in the French army. This administrative dimension was the one in which many of the most important changes occurred. Better administration allowed the recruitment and maintenance of larger armies. Thus, though there were technological changes in the per iod, it can be suggested that the most significant developments (expansion of armies and navies and greater state monopolization of violence) were not essentially technologically driven, but more social and political in their nature. Thus, on both land and sea, and in both qualitative and quantitative terms, there were major changes in the period after 1660. Whether they deserve description in terms of a revolution is of course subjective: there are no agreed-upon cr iteria by which military change, especially qualitative development, can be measured or, more significantly, revolution discerned. If simply quantitative criteria are to be addressed then it is difficult to compare aggregate and percentage increases. Again, different aggregate figures can point to different results. With ships, for example, tonnage, and number and weight of guns, can provide different results. Eighteenth-century British warships were less impressive than their Bourbon counterparts. French and Spanish ships were better designed and generally faster. In 1744 Admiral Mathews complained about the British warships under his command and provided an indication of the danger of judging naval effectiveness in terms of the number of guns per warship, Nor can ships which cannot make use of their lower tiers of guns, though they mount ninety and eighty guns, do the duty expected (by the ignorant) against the 74 and 64 gun ships of France who can fire theirs…there is no proportion of metal, our lightly gunned ships having but twelve and six pounders, whereas some of the enemy’s seventy-four gun ships carry forty, eighteen and nine pounders…the rest of them, thirty two, eighteen and nine; their ships of sixty four guns have twenty 10

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

four, eighteen and nine pounders, which makes even them better men of war than our eighty gun ships that cannot make use of their lower tiers which they will ever seldom be able to do… I have now but two ships of ninety and three of eighty guns, that can make use of their lower tiers of guns, if it blows a cap full of wind… not in [my] power to engage the enemy, when he is superior to them, nor to escape when he is inferior.20 In counting numbers of guns, it is also necessary to note that the ability to use them varied: the regular gun-drills of the British navy enabled their ships to maintain a heavier and more accurate fire for longer. Clearly, therefore, numbers were not the sole factor. This was also the case on land, most spectacularly during the earlier Spanish defeat of the empires in the New World. The Aztec and Inca empires were overthrown by tiny forces and only a small portion of the armed forces of the European powers were used outside Europe and the North Atlantic world over the following three centuries. Indeed, it is at the level of global significance that the importance of the changes in the post-1660 period should be considered. Obviously, there are problems in considering European and extra-European warfare as parts of a whole. The physical conditions, the size of the forces involved and the problems of central control of them were all very different in the two areas. Yet an assessment of revolutionary impact requires such a perspective. In terms of the global reach of seapower, the balance had swung towards the European powers long before 1660, but that was not true on land. The post-1660 period was, unfortunately, neglected by Parker; indeed, his book carries misleading dates, for it principally deals with 1500–1650 and not the following century and a half. This is especially unfortunate because it is related to a stress on the clash between transoceanic European forces and nonEuropean powers, and a consequent lack of emphasis on Europe’s land frontier: the border with the Turks and, further east, with Persia. Indeed, whereas Parker mentions the siege ofVienna, 21 it is disappointing, in light of the valuable attention he focuses on relations between European and non-European powers, that he subsequently neglects Austro-Turkish warfare.22 The same is also true of its Polish-Turkish23 and Russo-Turkish counterparts, and of Russian warfare with Persia and in Central Asia.24 Yet it is in this sphere that change can most obviously be noted. For centuries European powers had been under pressure from the east, with essentially settled societies resisting the inroads of partly nomadic peoples. Such an assessment can be taken back to the last centuries of Imperial Rome (Persian attacks on Classical Greece were somewhat different), and then the successive attacks made by Arabs, Magyars, Seljuk Turks, Mongols, Ottoman 11

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

Turks andTimur (Tamerlane), although the pressure from the east was not continuous and the Crusades were an important example of European powers applying pressure in the opposite direction. It was the Ottoman Turks who finally conquered the Balkans and in 1453 overthrew Byzantium. In the sixteenth century, thanks in part to the effective use of firearms and cannon, Turkish power expanded even further. Selim I defeated the Safavids of Persia at Caldiran (1514) and pushed Turkish frontiers eastwards. Victories at Marj Dabia (1516) and al-Raydaniyya (1517) led to the conquest of the Mameluke Empire, their cavalry falling victim to Turkish firepower. The frontiers of Christendom were also pushed back. In the Mediterranean, Rhodes fell in 1522 and Cyprus in 1570–1, and all of North Afr ica except Morocco acknowledged Turkish lordship. The Turks also advanced from the Balkans into central Europe. Belgrade fell in 1521, and the decisive victory of Mohacs (1526) was followed by the conquest of most of Hungary by Suleiman I (the Magnificent). The Turkish advance was held—a series of unsuccessful sieges (Vienna 1529, Corfu 1537, Reggio 1543 and Malta 1565) marking the limit of advance—but that did not end the Turkish threat to Christian Europe. The Turkish state was one of the most populous in Europe, and its military system the most sophisticated in sixteenth-century Europe. The Austro-Turkish war of 1593– 1606 revealed the logistical strength of the Turkish army.25 It was fortunate for the European powers that the Turks devoted so much energy to their long wars against Safavid Persia: that of 1578–90 led to a welcome reduction in the threat to Habsburg Europe. In the mid-seventeenth century Turkish power suffered a decline, but there was then a revival of strength and energy under the first two grand viziers of the Köprülü dynasty. They benefited from the end of the war with Persia as this revitalized the Turkish state and enabled the Turks to take a more active rôle in Europe: the long conflict with Venice over Crete (1645–69) was brought to an end successfully with the fall of Candia. Turkish authority in Translyvania was made more effective as a result of a war in 1658–61, and the Turks were left in complete control there after a brief war with Austria in 1663–4. A war with Poland during 1671–6 led to the acquisition of Podolia, a large territory stretching from the Dniester to the Dnieper, which increased their ability to intervene in Poland and the Ukraine. The disturbed state of the latter encouraged the Turks to attack Russia in 1677–81, although that war brought them no gains. In 1682 Imre Thököly, the leader of the anti-Habsburg rebels in the section of Hungary ruled by Austria, agreed, in return for Turkish help, to become a vassal of the sultan, and in 1683 the Turks advanced on Vienna. Thus the Turks were still very much a dynamic force in the late seventeenth century. Indeed, in so far as there was a military revolution either in the 12

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

Roberts period or earlier, it had not hitherto led to a decisive shift in the military balance or movement in the frontier between Christendom and Islam, a point that was further underlined by the peripheral nature of the Christian military impact on North Africa.27 This situation was to change radically by 1718, so much so that by 1730 there was no doubt that the British dramatist Henry Fielding was being satirical in his play The coffee-house politician when he had the ridiculous and news-obsessed Politic repeatedly express his concern about Turkish intentions, culminating in his fear that we should see Turkish galleys in the [English] Channel…it is possible for the Grand Signior to find an ingress into Europe.—Suppose, Sir, this spot I stand on to be Turkey—then here is Hungary—very well—here is France, and here is England—granted—then we will suppose he had possession of Hungary—what then remains but to conquer France, before we find him at our own coast…this is not all the danger…he can come by sea to us.28 There had been a dramatic reversal. The Turkish defeat at Vienna (12 September 1683) was followed by substantial Austrian advances. The siege of the strong fortress of Buda in 1684 was unsuccessful, and disease decimated the Austrians, but that of 1686 ended with a successful storming in which the Austrians used their bayonets with effect. The year 1687 brought a decisive Austrian victory at Berg Harsan (Nagyharsany) and the deposition of Sultan Mehmed IV; and 1688 saw the fall of Belgrade (8 September). The collapse of the Turkish position in the Balkans and an Austrian advance into the world of the Orthodox appeared imminent. The Austrians developed links with rebellious elements among the Bulgarians and Serbs and began negotiations with the prince ofWallachia, a Turkish client-ruler. In 1689 the main Turkish army was defeated south of Belgrade, and the Austr ians seized Nish, Vidin, Pristina and Skopje and reached Bucharest. The Serbian patriarch of Pec was persuaded to take an oath of loyalty to Leopold I, who on 6 April 1690 issued an appeal for the support of all Balkan peoples against the Turks and promised liberty under their lawful ruler himself as King of Hungary. The Austrian victories reflected the improvements introduced by Count Raimondo Montecuccoli, Commander-in-Chief and President of the War Council 1668–80. The Austrian army became larger and more mobile and this was subsequently furthered by the introduction of flintlocks. Flintlocks and bayonets gave the Austrian infantry an important tactical advantage over the Turks, who had neither, while the Austrian cavalry improved considerably. Logistics, however, remained a major problem. 13

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The late 1680s may have represented the best opportunity for driving the Turks out of all or most of the Balkans until the nineteenth century, but Turkish resilience should not be underrated, while from 1688 the Austrians were distracted by the outbreak of war in western Europe (the Nine Years’War or War of the League of Augsburg, 1688–97). In addition, the Orthodox populations of areas now open to Catholicization by the Austrians were becoming restless. The chaos that greeted Suleiman II (1687–91) was quashed, and a new grand vizier from the Köprülü family, Fazil Mustafa (1689–91), restored order to army and government. In 1690 he took Nish and Belgrade, the latter after only a six-day siege, but in the following year Fazil and the Turkish hopes of recapturing Hungary were both killed at the major defeat at Zalánkemén (18/19 August), a hard-fought battle that left a third of the Austrian army dead or wounded, but the Turks routed. Conflict over the next few years was indecisive and difficult, because of Austrian commitments against Louis XIV and, in the battlezone, improved fortifications, the depletion of local sources of supply and the problems of fighting in undrained and fever-ridden marshy lowlands. Matters moved towards a climax as a result of the accession of the energetic Mustafa II (1695– 1703) and the end of the war in Italy in 1696, which enabled the Austrian ruler, Emperor Leopold I to transfer more troops and his rising general, Eugene of Savoy, to Hungary. The Turks had some success in 1695–6, but Eugene routed Mustafa at Zenta in 1697, the latter suffering possibly 30,000 casualties. The eventual peace settlement at Karlowitz (January 1699) saw Austria gain Transylvania and the whole of Hungary except the Banat of Temesvár (Timisoara), while her allies Poland and Venice acquired Podolia and the Morea. Conflict was resumed in 1716, the Austrians winning crushing victories at Peterwardein (Petrovaradin) (1716) and Belgrade (1717) and captur ing Temesvár (1716) and Belgrade (1717). The Peace of Passarowitz (1718) left Austria with the Banat of Temesvar, Little (Western) Wallachia and northern Serbia. These victories indicated the increasing vulnerability of Turkish mass formations to the firepower of disciplined Austrian units; but, aside from differences in firepower, Turkish discipline and drill were also poor. The shift in the balance of military advantage between Austria and Turkey was also significant, as the best way to put a definite temporal boundary on the Military Revolution (in Parker’s valuable globalist sense of the term) is to isolate the period when Europeans became militarily superior to peoples who in the past had been their equals or superiors, most notably the Turks. In contrast to the receding frontier of Europe in the sixteenth century, there was expansion in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries: the military balance between “West” and “East” had reversed. 14

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

Austrian victories were part of a more general shift in European warfare away from speed, mobility and primal shock-power and towards defensive tactics based on infantry firepower, a shift that was already apparent among the major European powers during the first half of the sixteenth century. It was this shift that led also to the defeat of “Gaelic” forces in Britain, culminating at the killing field at Culloden in 1746, 29 while better-equipped and bettertrained Austr ian armies defeated more mobile Hungarian opponents at Nagyszombat (1704) and Zsibó (1705) during the Rakoczi rebellion. More generally, the period from 1660 onwards, up to the outbreak of the French Revolutionary Wars, saw the victory of armies emphasizing the concentrated firepower of disciplined infantry and their supporting artillery over more mobile forces that stressed the use of shock-power in attack. This theme links both a number of otherwise disparate campaigns and, more generally, the struggle between established governments and rebellious “marginal” forces (for example, the Cossacks and Jacobites) and that between European Christian states and their Islamic neighbours. As with all theses, this one must not be pushed too far: the Turks were essentially a settled people, and the western Europeans had also been settled long before the “military revolution”, but without enjoying military superiority over their more mobile opponents. A similar contrast between the more specialized and organized forces of essentially settled peoples and their more mobile, and often nomadic, opponents was scarcely new and can be seen elsewhere in the period 1660–1815, for example in the struggles between the Turks and the Bedouin, Mughal India and invaders from Afghanistan, Safavid Persia and the same invaders, and Manchu China and the peoples of lands conquered between 1691 and 1760, such as the Khalkhas of Eastern Mongolia and the Dzungarians of Western Mongolia. Similarly, in 1811, a Turko-Egyptian army invaded the Hejaz, capturing the port of Yanbo in 1811, Medina in 1812 and Mecca in 1813. The more specialized forces generally enjoyed the advantages of numbers and firepower, but other factors could be decisive: Safavid Persia was overthrown at the battle of Gulnabad (1722), although a contrary result “ought not to have been in much doubt”, in large part because the Afghan forces were better led.30 Nevertheless, in the period 1660–1815 the success of the major European states in creating effective forces able to use concentrated and disciplined firepower in order to defeat opponents was very important in global terms. The success of these forces against opponents armed with guns was particularly significant. In short, it can be argued that the qualitative European military changes already noted—the bayonet, the flintlock musket, accurate and mobile grape—as well as canister-firing field artillery, and warships firing a greater weight of metal—were crucial in that they opened up a major gap in capability 15

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

among armies and navies armed with firearms. Thus Mughal India lagged in the adoption of the flintlock and in improvements in field artillery. At Patna (1764) the Indians were armed with matchlocks and pikes. The men on the Maratha warship destroyed by the British in February 1775 were armed with matchlocks.31 In addition, while earlier European conquests (America, the Philippines, Portuguese coastal gains in Africa and Asia) could in most cases rely on superior technology (for example, gunpowder, fortifications and steel), those of the period 1660–1815 reflected not only superior technology but also a superiority in military technique (broadly conceived to include drill, cartography, logistic and financial institutions, as well as tactics) which was more difficult to transfer or replicate than technology, resting as it did on the foundations of centuries of European social and institutional change. The American Indians who took part in Pontiac’s Rising (1763–4) captured a number of British forts and successfully ambushed British forces, but they had no source of firearms other than captures, were unable to capture major positions such as Detroit and Niagara, and found it difficult to sustain long conflicts; in 1764 they were obliged to submit. It would be misleading to imply that European forces were invariably successful. The successes of European ar mies against non-Europeans demonstrated a widespread European superiority in tactics and firepower. It did not guarantee victory. Hardly any European power concentrated its military and naval resources against non-European opponents. Russia, the one major power that did, did not possess the most advanced military organization in Europe, and, in any case, not only fought other European powers but also had to be always prepared to do so. A recent study of India stresses the rôle of problems of terrain and supply in order to emphasize that “though the new artillery/infantry combinations of the Europeans were clearly superior in the best of circumstances, they were not—at this point—invincible”. At the battle of Buxar (1764), one British officer noted the Indians kept “up a very severe cannonade…in general their guns were well pointed” and again that Indian grapeshot was “severe”, did “great execution” and stopped the advance of British sepoys (Indians trained by the British and in their service). Another officer commented on “a very heavy cannonade” and wrote that the 150 cannon captured by the British were in “good condition”. Both officers also noted the severity of the Indian cannonade at the Battle of Patna (1764). In western India the British were drawn into struggles between the Maratha leaders in the 1770s. A slow-moving British army advanced from Bombay into the difficult terrain of the Ghats, but was surrounded at Wadgaon (February 1779) and forced to accept terms. Another army, however, marched overland from Bengal to Surat safely, and its rapid breaching of the walls of Ahmadabad showed the effectiveness of British artillery. The British and the Marathas 16

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

fought again inconclusively in 1781–2. In 1780 Haidar Ali of Mysore invaded the Carnatic, destroying a force under William Baillie at Pollilore (10 September). The performance of the Marathas in 1803 in the Second AngloMaratha War revealed a high level of “infantry and especially artillery capability”.32 There were a number of prominent failures by European forces, including PrinceVasily Golitsyn’s campaigns in the Crimea in 1687 33 and 1689, the Russian siege of Azov of 1695, Peter I’s campaign against the Turks in 1711, and Austrian campaigns against theTurks in 1739 and 1788. The British navy was driven back by the Dardanelles batteries in 1807. A less well-known failure was the encirclement and annihilation of a Russian force on the bank of the river Sunja in 1785 by North Caucasian Muslims taking part in the holy war launched by Sheikh Mansur.34 The Russians also found it difficult to impose control among the Chukchi and Koryaks of north-east Siberia. 35 In North America, in 1802, the Aleuts destroyed the recently founded Russian base of Mikhailovsk. American Indians were able to fight “European” Americans to a standstill almost to the end of the eighteenth century. This was true both near the eastern seaboard, where, for example, theYamasee nearly destroyed the British colonies in the Carolinas in 1715, and along the northern border of French expansion from Louisiana and Spanish expansion north from Mexico. The French suffered defeats at the hands of the Chickasaws in the late 1730s, although the use of devastation—destroying villages and crops—forced them to terms in 1752. The Spaniards attempted to create an impregnable cordon of presidios (fortified bases), but the Indians travelled between them with no difficulty. The Apaches, Comanches and other Plains Indians were well mounted and armed, their firearms coming from trade with British merchants and with Spanish Louisiana, where there was a policy of trying to win them over by trade. The Indians were also able to respond to Spanish tactics. Spanish expeditions, such as those against the Apaches in 1732 and 1775, were hindered by the fact that there were few fixed positions for them to attack. The Yuma rebellion of 1781, in which Spanish positions were destroyed, thwarted plans of expansion through the Colorado Valley and into central Arizona. In contrast, the Indians on the Pacific coast lacked both guns and horses, so that Spain expanded her power in California rapidly in the 1770s, although in 1775 the Ipais were able to burn the mission at San Diego.36 There were also setbacks for European powers in North Africa. Spanishheld Oran resisted attacks in 1667, 1672, 1675 and 1688, Ceuta and Melilla Moroccan sieges in 1720–7 and 1732, and 1774–5 respectively; but the English abandoned Tangier in 1683, the Spaniards lost Oran in 1708, recaptured it in 1732 and evacuated it in 1792, the Portuguese lost 17

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

Mazagam to Morocco in 1765, and major Spanish attacks on Algiers in 1775, 1783 and 1784 were repelled. The Spaniards suffered heavy casualties in 1775 as their exposed troops were subjected to heavy fire while their artillery could not be deployed speedily on the coastal sand. A French attempt to land at Larache in Morocco in 1765 failed in the face of heavy fire. The Bey of Tunis in 1741 seized the offshore island of Tabarca, which the French had purchased from the Lomellino family, defeated a counterattack by a small French force in 1742 and sacked the French Afr ica Company’s base at Cape Negre. Elsewhere in Afr ica, the attempt by the Portuguese to expand their influence up the Zambesi into modern Zimbabwe in search of the reputed gold and silver mines of Monomotapa, was defeated by fever and by a widespread tribal rising in 1693–5, by natives armed with spears. Serious doubts have been raised about the benefit of firearms for the Portuguese in Angola and Mozambique in the period 1575–1680:37 their inaccuracy and low rate of fire were major disadvantages when confronting the dispersed formations common in southern Africa. In addition, by the seventeenth century, the African armies had taken up muskets and these supplanted bows as the general missile weapon in Angola at about the end of the century. In Angola “there was no automatic or overwhelming technical or organizational superiority” on the part of the Portuguese. They quickly accepted African tactics and organization for their army, which was largely manned by Africans, and the attempt to conquer the kingdom of Ndongo ended in stalemate in the early 1680s; while on the Gold and Slave Coasts in West Africa, the Europeans’ rôle as suppliers of mercenaries did not give them much power.38 It has also been argued that on the north-west coast of North America and in Alaska the limitations of firearms and the nature of native warfare were such that firearms were not necessarily superior to traditional weapons.39 In 1810 a Portuguese force under Governor Villas Boas Truâo was destroyed at Boromo on the Upper Zambesi. In 1698 the leading Portuguese base in East Africa, Mombasa, fell to the Omani Arabs—who had captured Muscat from the Portuguese in 1650, developed a formidable navy with well-gunned warships, and sacked Diu in 1668. The Arabs had no siege artillery and the guns they had captured did little damage, but the Portuguese in Mombasa were badly hit by beri-beri and other diseases which led to the death of nine-tenths of the garrison. The siege began in 1696, when the garrison consisted of only 50 Portuguese soldiers and a force of loyal coast Arabs, but it was strengthened by relief forces brought by sea in late 1696 and September 1697. Regained, after a mutiny by African soldiers against Omani control, in 1728, Mombasa and the attendant suzerainty over the Swahili islands and states of East Africa—Pate, Pemba, Zanzibar and Malindi— 18

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

were lost again, in 1729: again the besiegers had no artillery and very few firearms, but the garrison capitulated as a result of low morale and problems with food supplies. In 1769 the Portuguese Governor of Mozambique failed to reconquer Mombasa.40 The French did not control Madagascar from the coastal base they established at Fort Dauphin in 1748, a post they had earlier been driven from, in 1674. On the other hand, the Dutch settlers in southern Africa defeated the Xhosa on the Fish River in 1781. The Xhosa, however, offered more serious resistance to Dutch expansion than the Khoi of the Cape region had done. In South Asia, Louis XIV’s intervention in Siam (Thailand) was unsuccessful, as was the attempt by both the British and the French to benefit from the Burmese civil war in the 1750s. The governor of the Portuguese base of Goa in western India was badly defeated by the Marathas at Ponda in 1683. An alliance of Goa and the British of Bombay was unable in 1721 to capture Culabo (Colabo) the principal base of the Angrias. In 1737–40 Goa was involved in a disastrous war with the Marathas which led to the loss of the Portuguese “Province of the North”: Bassein fell after a siege in 1739 and Goa nearly fell the same year. The British settlement of Balambangan in Borneo was destroyed in 1775 by a local uprising. In 1792 the British prudently refused a request from the Rajah of Nepal for assistance against Chinese military pressure, although the Ch’ing intervention cut off Tibet-Bengal trade and closed Bhutan to the British. Similarly, the decision was taken not to offer the Rajah of Kedah (in modern Malaysia) assistance against Siam even though the British had obtained Penang in 1786 by offering the prospect of such assistance. 41 Penang, like many European overseas bases, was not a powerful military position. Fort Louis on the Senegal River in West Africa was described in 1758 as “of no strength…the wall built with clay and soft brick plastered over…only embrazures for twelve [guns]”. Three years later, the British garrison there was decimated by disease.42 It is therefore possible to suggest the marginality of European military pressure in Africa and Asia. Many of the non-European states were powerful and aggressive. Even when the Europeans made gains they were not always preserved. In 1685 and again in 1686 the Chinese successfully besieged the Russian fortress of Albazin, and in 1689 Russia acknowledged Chinese control of the Amur Valley by the Treaty of Nerchinsk. In 1722 Peter the Great advanced along the Caspian Sea. Darband and Resht were occupied in 1722, Baku in 1723, and in 1723 Shah Tahmasp of Persia was persuaded to yield the provinces along the southern and western shores of the Caspian. A Persian revival and the loss of many soldiers to disease, however, led the Russians to abandon their gains by the Treaties of Resht (1729, 1732) and Gence (1735). Yet if the global territorial position in 1792 is compared with that in 1660, 19

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the gains of territory between European and non-European powers are overwhelmingly to the benefit of the former, and the land frontier between Christian and non-Christian Europe had changed dramatically. This was of crucial importance for Christian Europe. Up to 1683 the tide had flowed in the opposite direction. The Austr ian conquest of Hungary was the precondition of Austrian strength in the eighteenth century; indeed, the Austrian successes in the 1680s marked a major shift in the European balance of power against Louis XIV. Similarly, Russia was able to act effectively in part because its southern question had been radically altered: the issue was now how far it would be possible to advance. The successes against the Turks were crucial triumphs for the European “land powers”. As major contests between land powers, they were a reasonable test of military capability. The failures listed earlier were overwhelmingly those of amphibious power. Small settlements with limited maritime connections with distant home bases were only rarely the basis of imperial expansion in the eighteenth century, but the rationale of most of these positions was commercial rather than territorial, and indeed they were frequently controlled directly by trading companies. The Europeans faced serious difficulties when they sought transoceanic territorial expansion, but it would be mistaken to underrate their military power. In part their very difficulties, as in North America, came from the borrowing of European weaponry and, although to a lesser extent, tactics by their opponents. Native Americans learned to repair muskets, cast bullets and make gunflints.43 The Arab siege of Mombasa in 1698 was helped by Leonardo Nunes, a Portuguese gunner who deserted.44 The Omani fleet had already benefited from the use of European mariners and Portuguese captives, as well as from the assistance of Dutch and English navigators, gunners and ammunition. Europeans sold steel, iron, guns, arms, nails, anchors, fir-masts, copper and lead at Muscat.45 In West Africa in the eighteenth century almost all muskets, powder and shot were imported. Guns and related goods were an important trade good in purchasing slaves in particular, but also sometimes for cattle, gum arabic and grain, and as customs payments. There is little evidence that Europeans provided real training in the use of firearms, although Latsukaabe, the founder of the Geej dynasty in Senegambia in the 1690s, sought to borrow advisers to train soldiers in the use of firearms. Kings in the region showed a keen interest in seeing European troops and their local auxiliaries exercise in formation. The local auxiliaries were probably the key figures in the transfer of expertise. Since they worked seasonally for Europeans and were trained to use firearms in the riverboat convoys, they had ample opportunities to sell their expertise to local rulers. A similar transfer probably occurred all along 20

THE ROBERTS THESIS QUESTIONED

the West African coast, since all European forts and settlements employed local mercenaries or “castle slaves” as soldiers. For the kingdom of Kajoor in the Senegal Valley and some other West African states, including those on the Gold Coast, there is good evidence that troops ar med with muskets “exercised” and trained in formation. West African blacksmiths could make copies of flintlock muskets. They had little incentive to do so during the eighteenth century, but did in the nineteenth century during resistance to the colonial conquest. In both periods, the use of cannon was mainly confined to ships owned by African merchants on the Senegal and Niger. There are a few cases of Africans capturing European cannons and putting them to use, but field pieces were not sold to them. Casting cannon probably exceeded the capacities of local craftsmen, so that there was a European monopoly everywhere except on the river systems.46 European weaponry was also adopted elsewhere. In 1734 Nadir Shah was loaned Russian artillery and engineers disguised as Iranians, for the siege of Ganja.47 In 1787 the dynamic Bo-daw-hpaya, King of Burma, negotiated with the French at their Bengal base of Chandernagore in his search for Western arms. 48 In the early 1790s Jezzar Pasa of Palestine was reported to have obtained British arms, including field artillery, from the British Consul in Alexandria, for his effective army49 When in 1816 an American force attacked a base used by Creek Indians and fugitive slaves on the Apalachicola River in Florida they found a regularly constructed fortification built under the direction of a British colonel mounting 10 cannon with 3,200 firearms in the arsenal.50 Firearms were introduced to the north-west coast of North America by European and American traders in the 1780s and the willingness to trade firearms led the American Indians to substitute them for bows and arrows. The use of firearms was then spread by intertribal trade and the American Indians, who rapidly became expert in their use, used them for warfare among themselves and against whites as well.51 Similarly, firearms were introduced to New Zealand by European traders, and then used extensively by the Maoris in intertribal warfare in the early nineteenth century: the direction of influence was shown by the visit of Hongo Hika, a Maori chief, to Britain in 1820, in order to obtain muskets and a double-barrelled gun.52 Nevertheless, despite the borrowing of European techniques by nonEuropean peoples, the European colonial powers still had considerable success. The Indians and others who adopted European military methods did not do so with full success: there was a major difference between technology, which was relatively easy to acquire (though less so to copy proficiently), and technique, which was culturally based and therefore very difficult to adopt. This was particularly so in the case of tactical developments. In India, at least, when the Europeans ran into trouble, it was usually with local forces that had 21

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adopted technique as well as technology. The willingness of Indian rulers to tur n to European military methods provided careers for a number of European soldiers. The most spectacular was George Thomas (c. 1756–1802), an Irishman who deserted from the British navy in 1781 and rose by 1799, through military command in Indian armies, to independent control of a substantial region between Delhi and the Punjab, including Hansi, Hissar and Sirsa. De Boigne, the French commander of the forces of Mahadji Shinde, who dominated Rajastan and Delhi in 1790–4, was given a large personal estate. The forces he trained in European methods were 24,000-strong with 130 cannon in 1792, and the cannon were used to destroy the military effectiveness of fortresses.53 Thomas’s state was to collapse under the onslaught of attacks from neighbouring Indian rulers, including European-officered forces, but there was no equivalent in Europe of a non-European adventurer being able to rise so high: there was no military need and the political culture was different. The closest equivalents were in Turkey: in this state, geographically part of Europe but culturally, socially and politically different, largely as a result of Islam, foreigners could rise very high. The cosmopolitanism of Christian Europe ensured that foreigners could rise, but this did not extent to non-Christians. The Russians, in particular, employed foreign experts, but these had to be Christians and there was no possibility of them gaining independent power. Military skill and success could, however, lead to rapid social ascent, most obviously in the forces of Revolutionary and Napoleonic France. Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte rose from being an ordinary soldier to the position of a Marshal of France (1804) before becoming heir to the Swedish throne (1810) and King Charles XIV (1818–44). The gap between Turkey’s military capability and that of its European rivals was such that in the eighteenth century there was considerable episodic interest in acquiring the latter’s expertise. Claude-Alexandre, Comte de Bonneval (1675–1747), a French noble who had fallen out successively with Louis XIV and Prince Eugene, converted to Islam and sought to Westernize the Turkish army in the 1730s. Significantly, he also sought to modernize the manufacture of munitions and in 1734 opened a military engineering school. The conservatism of the Turkish military, however, finally nullified his efforts. Other foreign advisers were brought in by Sultan Abdulhamit I (r. 1774–89), who did not require them to convert and adopt Ottoman ways. Baron François deTott (1730–93), a Hungarian noble who had risen in the French artillery, was influential in the 1770s; however, he did not convert to Islam. In 1774 he established a new rapid-fire artillery corps, and he also built a modern cannon foundry and a new mathematics school.54 In south-east and south Asia the European colonial powers had important 22

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gains. The Dutch East India Company was not invariably successful, but it did succeed in extending considerably its territorial powers in Java, in part through the co-operation of local rulers,55 although control there was only established in the nineteenth century. Elsewhere in Indonesia, despite the financial problems of the Dutch Company, it was still able to hold its own: in 1759 Rajah Muhammad of Siak destroyed the Dutch post at Pulau Gontong, but in 1761 a Dutch punitive expedition avenged the massacre and placed the Rajah s brother on the throne. In 1784 the Bugis’s siege of Malacca was unsuccessful: the Dutch relieved their post, captured Riau and forced the Sultan of RiauJohor to become in effect their vassal. Dutch expansion was aimed at maximizing profits, not at occupying territory. The idea was to control by indirect rule, or by deterrence, and to prevent competitors from taking over. A minimal military presence, and the use of local levies and allies, was usually sufficient. Occasionally the situation turned out otherwise, and a punitive expedition was sent to restore Dutch authority. In south-east Asia as a whole the use of firearms by non-Europeans was very extensive, but the volley technique was not adopted: the war elephant, pikes, swords and spears being still the dominant weaponry, firearms made little impact on tactics, and by the eighteenth century the south-east Asians had abandoned the attempt to keep pace with new developments in the production of both firearms and gunpowder. Thus wheel lock and flintlock mechanisms were not reproduced in south-east Asian foundries.56 Developments in India were more dramatic. The British succeeded in becoming the dominant power in both Bengal and South India, regions where the combined population far exceeded that of Britain. Small forces, composed of British troops and, more numerous, British-trained Indians, defeated vastly larger numbers of Indians at Plassey (1757), Patna (1764) and Buxar (1764). At Patna (3 May 1764) British grapeshot halted the advance of hostile infantry and when a cavalry attack was launched by the Indians, “a severe fire of artillery soon drove them back…we lost few men, but the enemy’s loss was very great”. At Buxar (23 October 1764), Sir Hector Munro and 7,000 men of the East India Company army, including 1,500 Europeans, defeated Mir Kasim, the Nawab of Bengal, the Mughal Emperor and the Wazir of Awadh, and a force of 50,000. The Indian army had more cannon and used them to considerable effect, but British firepower was superior and grapeshot and bayonets blocked the Indian cavalry. The Indians were driven from the field, although the battle lasted three hours and Munro’s force lost heavily: 733 killed, wounded and missing, including 69 Europeans. The victory was followed by the Treaty of Allahabad (1765) by which the British position in Bengal, Bihar and Orissa was recognized. British military power led to a clear sense of superiority, as in 1788 when 23

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the Commander-in-Chief and Gover nor-General, Charles, 2nd Earl Cornwallis, proposed to pursue Britain’s claim to the Circar of Guntur (Guntoor) against the Nizam of Hyderabad by force, using diplomacy simply to secure the settlement: it will be most expedient that our troops should march into the Circar on Captain Kennaway’s arrival at Masulipatam; and that our present Resident Meer Hussein should about ten days before inform the Nizam of our intention, giving the most positive assurances that our design was entirely limited to the taking possession of the Circar as our undoubted right by treaty. This was very much the language of a general confident of his power, and the result justified Cornwallis’ optimism. The value of the European model of warfare was shortly afterwards to be demonstrated again in both Indo-China and southern India; although the British also encountered major problems, both with the artillery of the Marathas in 1803 and with the strength of popular resistance in the rebellion of the Palassi Raja in Wynad, a conflict in which mobile British columns sought to suppress guerrilla warfare, succeeding in 1806 only after eight years of conflict.57 The problems of France, already in political and serious financial difficulties, prevented her government in 1788 from fulfilling treaty commitments to send forces to the assistance of Nguyen Anh (1762–1820), son of one of the claimants to Cochin-China (the area around the Mekong). Nguyen Anh, who was initially dependent on Chinese pirates and Cambodian mercenaries, captured Saigon in 1788. In place of royal forces, he received only French arms and a small number of advisers, hired with the help of French merchants. Nevertheless, in 1789–92, the advisers trained his troops in European methods of war and helped Nguyen Anh to conquer Cochin-China. Olivier du Puymanel was responsible for the army, Jean Marie Dayot for the navy. The Tay Son capital at Hué was captured in 1801. By 1802 the whole ofVietnam had been united under one ruler for the first time in its history, and Nguyen Anh proclaimed himself Emperor Gia-long ofVietnam.58 In southern India, another dynamic power, Mysore, was crushed by the British in 1791–2 and 1799. The ability of Britain to do so was an indication not only of the global reach of its power, but also of the flexibility of European forces in the period. The British army succeeded in combining the firepower that was so effective against Mysore’s fortresses with a reasonable degree of mobility. Cornwallis had stressed the value of mobility from the outset. In January 1787 he wrote, “no man in India can be more convinced than I am of the importance of cavalry to our armies”, and later that year he added: 24

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I found, in the extensive field in which I acted during my command in the Southern provinces of America, very great advantage from mounting about eighty or an hundred men on ordinary horses, to act with the Cavalry; By this means I could venture to detach my cavalry and strike an unexpected blow at a very considerable distance from my army. It occurs to me, that in case of an invasion of the Carnatic, you might find a corps of this sort picked from your European infantry… very useful. It would not only protect the cavalry when detached in their camp or quarters, and assist them when harassed by swarms of irregular horse in the field, but it would enable you frequently either by surprise at night, or ambuscade, to punish considerable parties of plunderers, who are employed in laying waste the country.59 Once war had broken out with Tipu Sultan of Mysore in 1790, Cornwallis stressed the importance both of cavalry and of bullocks to move the artillery,60 themes voiced earlier by Sir Eyre Coote in the Second Mysore War (1780–4). Britain’s failure to obtain victory in the First Mysore War (1768–9) was attributed to a lack of cavalry. Like Coote, Cornwallis was also well aware of the logistical problems. He wrote to the Prime Minister, William Pitt the Younger, “it is no easy task to provide for the subsistence of vast multitudes in a distant desert”. 61 The Marathas and the Nizam of Hyderabad provided important assistance, especially in cavalry and supplies, but their forces were less valuable than had been anticipated, in part because the Marathas did not wish to see Mysore crushed. Cornwallis was not able to rely on their support and there was criticism of the quality of their cavalry and artillery.62 Cornwallis’s success can be compared with that of the Russians in the Russo-Turkish wars of 1768–74 and 1787–92. In both conflicts the Russians were able to overrun the Turkish possessions north of the Danube, seize their major fortress, and cross the river. In 1791 Russian victories over the Turks in advances across the Danube at Babadag and Machin revealed the vulnerability of Sultan Selim III; his army was largely destroyed and he accepted Russian peace preliminaries. The following year Captain Sidney Smith was sent by the British government to Constantinople on a secret mission in order to report on the Turkish military position and “to consider the means which the Russians may appear to him to have of making an impression upon Constantinople, or any other part of the Turkish Empire, by any attack made from the Black Sea, either by their naval force, or by an army landed near to Constantinople, and acting in concert with their fleet”.63 The “Eastern Question” had certainly begun. The extent of the Russian military achievement has been challenged. Gunther Rothenberg has argued, with reference to campaigns in 1789–90 and 25

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1794, that “Suvorov’s reputation rested on his victories over the poorly disciplined and rather backward forces of the Ottoman Empire and Poland … His strategy was primitive, calling for an attack on the enemy wherever he was found, and his tactics, based on the cult of the bayonet, were outdated and wasteful when delivered against troops relying on fire”. This analysis, however, underrates the problems of campaigning in eastern Europe and mistakenly implies that there is a clear continuum of achievement in military method in the light of which it is readily possible to assess what was “primitive”. Detailed studies of Russian warfare have been more positive. Russian military success has been attributed to grasping the necessary interrelationship of “tactics, operations, and logistics”, in order to pursue a “strategy of annihilation” furthered by the use of compact mobile forces drawing on advanced bases and supply magazines, by reliance on stor ming fortresses rather than on conventional sieges, and by a “credible offensive formation”: the battlefield use of mutually supporting squares, attacking in an articulated fashion and benefiting from crossfire. Similarly, it was “gun-power that decided the issue” between Russian and Turkish naval forces near Ochakov in 1788: larger Turkish fleets were defeated by more heavily gunned Russian ships.64 In his History of the decline and fall of the Roman Empire (London, 1776–88), the greatest historical work of the century, the British historian Edward Gibbon claimed that civilization had led to science, and that “cannon and fortifications now form an impregnable barrier against the Tartar horse”. In an interesting recent comparison of Roman frontier operations in 4th-century Gaul and those of the British on the north-west frontier of India in 1878– 1919, Hugh Elton focuses on similar issues. He argues that neither the Romans nor the British possessed a technological edge of any value until, during the Third Afghan War (1919), the British were able to use portable radios, air power, lorries, armoured cars and mobile machine guns.65 The combination of mobility and firepower was also crucial in the eighteenth century: the distances to be covered to the north and west of the Black Sea or in India were immense, and certainly different from those covered by most European armies campaigning in Germany, Italy and the Low Countries between 1660 and 1779. The scholarly focus on European warfare in that period has always been on those regions, and it is not surprising that this has led to a less than full appreciation of warfare in the period. In particular, there has been a neglect of the more mobile warfare that was characteristic of eastern Europe and of extra-European offensive operations. This is possibly a reflection of a historiographical bias in favour not only of western and central European warfare but, more markedly, in both German works and those of Anglo-American scholars heavily influenced by German suppositions, in favour of the notion that Frederick II represented the highest point of ancien régime 26

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warfare. Arguably, this is misleading in terms of the European forces competing in western and central Europe in the Frederician period, not least through leading to a relative neglect of the French under Saxe and the Austrians under Daun. It also underrates the potential diversity of warfare in western and central Europe, a diversity that was to be underlined from 1792 as Frederician linear tactics were shown to be at a disadvantage in the face of troops fighting in open order in the enclosed and wooded country of the Austr ian Netherlands and eastern France. Furthermore, such a notion also leads to a treatment of warfare outside this region as largely peripheral. However, if the global and military significance of the second stage of the early modern “military revolution” is to be grasped, it is necessary to look at that warfare. It has to be considered both on land and on sea, for scholars mostly concerned with Frederician warfare and more generally with that of the eighteenth century have tended to neglect the naval side—and yet it is clear that the concept of a military revolution must address it. As yet much of the work necessary for a general re-evaluation of extraEuropean warfare in the period has not been carried out, but a number of points emerge from a preliminary consideration. First, it is necessary not to assume that success is measured simply through the conquest of territory: as ever, it is important to consider the purposes of military force(s), not least their cost-effectiveness. In evaluating the degree of success of seventeenth-and eighteenth-century extra-European warfare it is necessary to note that the ambitions of the European powers were generally limited in scope and their commitment of military resources commonly slight, not least in comparison with the deployment of such resources in Europe. For example, the French military rôle in their new colony of Louisiana can be presented as impressive. In 1699 Biloxi Fort (Fort Maurepas) was constructed to guard the access to the Mississippi. It had four bastions constructed of logs, three of them mounted with cannon. The following year more artillery was added and Fort Mississippi was constructed and in 1702 Fort Louis (later Mobile) was laid out with bastions and batteries. Yet Fort Mississippi, which had no real fortifications—only a 15-man garrison with a small cannon on an elevated bank—was abandoned in 1706–7; Fort Maurepas, which had had 12 cannon and 12 swivel guns by the end of 1700, was also abandoned; the disease-ridden colony’s garrison was no more than 45 in 1706, and in 1710 the wood at Fort Louis was so rotted by humidity and decay that the cannon could not be supported. The garrison suffered from an absence of fresh meat, from insufficient swords, cartridge boxes, nails, guns, and powder, from demoralization and desertion, and no hospital; and the survival of the colony rested on acceptance by local Indians. Further afield, the French in 1715 sent a garrison of only 20 to Michilimackinac and planned only ten for 27

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Detroit.66 In 1719 a French force of seven captured theTexan mission of San Miguel de los Adaes, whose sole Spanish soldier was unaware that the two powers were at war, and the 25 Spanish soldiers in East Texas abandoned it. The force that recaptured it in 1721 was the largest Spain would ever send into Texas: about 500-strong. Over the following century Apache raiders of Spain’s frontier positions in North Amer ica enjoyed numer ical super ior ity. Nevertheless, the by then 800-strong French force in Louisiana succeeded in crushing the Natchez Indians in 1729–31.67 There was a general emphasis on trade, profit and influence, rather than on the “white man’s burden” imperialism of much of the nineteenth century with its stress on territorial control. The latter itself sometimes ended in military disaster despite even greater technological superiority over less advanced adversaries, as with the British defeat by the Afghans in 1842, by the Zulus at Isandlwana (1879), and by the Maoris (1845–7, 1860–72); the Italian defeat by the Ethiopians at Adowa (1896); the French defeat in Indo-China at Lang Son (1885); and the Spanish defeats in Morocco at Anual (1921) and Sidi Messaoud (1924). Secondly, military effectiveness could also be demonstrated in defence, a point that is often overlooked. Fortified strongholds and warships ensured that the structure of European trade and control outside Europe had considerable defensive strength. It is also important to direct attention to extra-oceanic struggles between European powers; and, in the case of the Thirteen Colonies, peoples. It is readily apparent, for example, that the strength and flexibility of the Spanish system in the New World has been underrated. This was in part demonstrated by the advance of New Spain: against the Araucanian Indians in Chile, in the modern south-west of America, and in the Yucatan, where in the 1690s the Mayas were brought under Spanish control. The ability of Spain to resist the pressure of other states, particularly Br itain, was a clearer demonstration of the strength of the Spanish position. In the New World, Spain created a generally successful defensive system based on regular army units and fortifications supported by militia, to which blacks were increasingly recruited from 1764.68 This was a system well adapted to the logistical, environmental and ecological problems of warfare in the tropics; and when Spain gained Louisiana after the Seven Years’War the colony’s defences were reorganized accordingly. Spanish control over the production of firearms was also important. In 1780, for example, at Arequipa in Peru it was superior firepower that led to the defeat of local rebels armed with lances, sticks and the traditional Andean weapon, the sling. Superior firepower was also important in 1811 in the defeat in Louisiana of the largest slave revolt to take place in the United States: the rebels were largely armed with agricultural implements. Nevertheless, non-European forces could succeed in 28

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the New World, as with the failure of Spain in the 1770s to subdue the Guajiros Indians of the Guajiro Peninsula of modern Columbia.69 Despite the problems of controlling regions of difficult terrain, the major challenges to Spain’s military position in the New World came from other European powers and, increasingly, from her own subjects. These were both thwarted in the eighteenth century, but were to be more effective in the early nineteenth century.70 The Spanish base of Havana was the site of an important naval dockyard. The navios and frigates built there from the durable local cedar and mahogany woods proved strong and long-lasting ships. Furthermore, the Spanish military system in the New World was also effective in attack, as was demonstrated with the conquest of British West Florida during the American War of Independence.71 Consideration of the Spaniards in the New World is valuable because it underlines the flexibility of European military models. The same point also emerges from consideration of warfare in North America, before, during and after the War of American Independence.72 The flexibility of the Americans in using their colonial exper ience of warfare is the point commonly underlined, but it is also the case that the British varied their tactics. A more open, less packed, two-deep line was adopted in the middle colonies because of the relative unimportance of cavalry. In the South the British under Cornwallis sought to make their forces more mobile. Tarleton’s infantry advanced to the Waxhaws on horseback and attacked “cavalry and infantry blended”. 73 The eventual British failure atYorktown in 1781 has distorted the analysis of the campaigns in the South. Lieutenant-Colonel Archibald Campbell’s rapid capture of Savannah in 1778, General Augustine Prevost’s success in routing a North Carolina force at Briar Creek in 1779 by attacking it from the rear and his advance on Charleston in 1779, General Sir Henry Clinton’s encirclement and successful siege of Charleston in 1780, and General Earl Cornwallis’s success at Camden that year and his march across North Carolina in early 1781, were evidence of British flexibility and mobility, as was Clinton’s flanking manoeuvre at Brandywine in 1778. In the West Indies in 1794–5, during the French Revolutionary War, the British used specially raised units of slaves, with European commanders, capable of moving rapidly and acting as light infantry. The notion that mobility on campaign and the value of the attack in battle were not rediscovered until the Revolutionary Wars is, therefore, misleading. It does not describe adequately campaigning in western and central Europe, where there were striking examples of mobility. John, Duke of Marlborough’s march to the Rhine in 1704 is the best known, but there were other instances of rapid movement over considerable distances, for example some of the movements of Frederick II and Prince Henry of Prussia during the Seven 29

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Years’ War. The improvement of European roads during the century further aided mobility; when the use of crushed stone to create a durable, all-weather road surface was developed. As already implied, the ability of European forces to solve the tactical and strategic problems of warfare a world away from the parade-ground conventions of western and central Europe was instrumental in the decisive driving back of the Turks and in the establishment of Britain as a territorial power in India. It is therefore pertinent to stress innovation, change and impact when considering warfare in the period 1660–1792. The destruction of Cossack independence by the Russians in the Ukraine was symptomatic of this process. What was until then, in effect, an independent warrior people was brought under control by the “Westernized” military units of Peter I’s army. In 1709 the Cossack headquarters at Stara Sich was destroyed.74 The Cossacks were permitted to establish a new centre at Nova Sich, but that was also destroyed, in 1775, and the whole of Zaporozhia was made part of an imperial province known as New Russia. In this case, military strength was indeed linked to centralization and state expansion, a crucial theme in the early modern “Military Revolution”. Change and impact must also be stressed in the case of naval power. In 1788 Cornwallis wrote, with reference to a proposed attack on the French in India, “unless we have a fleet capable of looking the enemy in the face, we must not hazard a considerable body of troops”. Naval power was crucial to imperial expansion and consolidation, and in military terms there was a significant expansion in amphibious capability, the basis of imperial expansion in the nineteenth century. Amphibious operations faced serious problems,75 many of which were not resolved, but nevertheless substantial forces were sent considerable distances, as when the British captured Manila in 1762 or New York in 1776. 76 The crucial nature of ar my-navy co-operation was demonstrated in theYorktown campaign of 1781, the reach of naval power by the establishment of the first European settlement in Australia in 1788. Two years later, during the Nootka Sound controversy, as earlier during the War of American Independence, the British considered far-flung attacks on the Spanish empire. They established a base on the Andaman Islands in 1789. The French were also active, charting the coast of Asia in the 1780s and sending naval expeditions into the Indian and Pacific oceans, while this was also a period of Spanish activity in the Pacific and of the expansion of Russian power on North America’s Pacific littoral.77 Major naval changes in the 1750–90 period were significant in this context. Substantial increases in the size of warships and also in their width in relation to their length made them far more seaworthy and hence much more able to undertake operations across the oceans. It was thus possible to have so many fleet battles in Caribbean, North American and Indian waters during the War of 30

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American Independence; and also to continue operations in European waters into the winter months when the first and second rates had had to be laid up in the past. The coppering of hulls made warships more seaworthy, enabling them to operate over longer distances and for longer periods. By vastly reducing the need for frequent hull repairs and refits, this substantially increased the size of the operational (in proportion to the nominal) fleets. Other infrastructural developments had similar effects: the great expansion of the naval dockyards at Portsmouth and Plymouth between 1763 and 1790; the further expansion of those of Spain under Charles III, the development of systems of overseas naval bases; and the far greater concern shown for the health of crews (including the building by the British and Spanish of vast naval hospitals). All these increased the ability to keep ships and crews at sea and increased the intensity of naval warfare. There were already significant developments in signalling thanks to British admirals Kempenfelt and Howe, even before these reached their culmination in the 1790s, which increased the control admirals had over their squadrons. The naval changes of the period 1750–90 were more important than those of 1793– 1815, which largely saw the working out of the former. The British campaign against the native Caribs of St. Vincent in the West Indies in 1772–3 provided an indication of the global potential of European power. It was not easy for European forces to operate in St. Vincent. Major General William Dalrymple wrote to the Secretary at War at the start of the campaign: Your Lordship is doubtless too well acquainted with the natural and uncommon strength of this island to doubt that a vigorous opposition may be expected. The fatality attending the climate at this season particularly joined with the numbers of the savages, present difficulties only to be overcome by our utmost diligence and perseverance. By the end of the year Dalrymple had reached the end of the existing road: “no white man has ever been in their concealed places of retirement… neither guides nor intelligence can be procured…this fatal climate”. Yet, despite losses through ambushes and by “the neglect of a villainous set of surgeons”, Dalrymple obtained a satisfactory treaty. The British had 636 casualties, 394 of them “sick”, but what was striking was their ability to deploy a force of over 2,000 effectives. Troops had been moved from North America and from elsewhere in the West Indies, their returns indicated that they were armed with good, new flintlocks and that Britain could afford the cost of the expedition.78 In 1795 the Caribs rose in response to encouragement from the Revolutionary French, but in 1796 they were defeated and forcibly expelled from St. Vincent after bush-fighting and the destruction of their homes and provision grounds.79 31

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The potential gap between European military capability and that of nonEuropean peoples was demonstrated most clearly in the Pacific, not only in Australia but also in eastern Indonesia. Captain John Blankett sailed through the Moluccas in December 1790 and found “the natives…were all armed with spears and shields, and all on horseback”. He was, however, unimpressed by the Dutch fort on Timor that he visited: “a miserable band, composed of a few German deserters and Malays compose a sort of garrison”. Blankett noted that the Dutch preserved their position by exploiting the rivalries of the rulers of Timor. 80 This was scarcely a picture of unrivalled European supremacy, but Blankett’s very voyage demonstrated that the European powers were taking the initiative. Similarly, in central Amazonia in the 1760s and 1770s, the Portuguese were unable to defeat the guerilla attacks of the mobile Mura with their ambushes of Portuguese canoes and their attacks on isolated settlements. The Muras did not learn the use of firearms, but were very effective with their bows and arrows. Nevertheless, the Muras could not defeat the Portuguese and the peace they sought in 1784 appears to have reflected the need to reach an accommodation with colonial power. 81 In 1765–9 the Portuguese were also successful in conflict with native tribes in south Mozambique. To conclude, the “revolutionary” periods were c. 1470–c. 1530, c. 1660– c.1720 and (primarily because of the levée en masse rather than tactics) 1792– 1815. Roberts’ emphasis on 1560–1660 is incorrect. Equally, though 1660– 1720 and 1792–1815 might be per iods of fairly dramatic change, the intervening era was not static and unchanging, neither on land nor at sea. Historians, with the obvious exception of Parker, have tended to neglect the significance of European conflict in the wider world. The significance of the lessons of colonial warfare, however, were often lost on contemporaries in Europe. Leaving aside the wider historical significance of European overseas expansion in the eighteenth century, the military impact on the way European wars were fought was often slight. The British, for example, failed to develop light infantry despite the lessons of the American War of Independence. Nevertheless, it is perhaps significant that the European powers engaged in land conflict with non-European states in the 1720–92 era (Russia, Austria and Britain) proved more resilient than Prussia (and other states) in standing up to Revolutionary France; although other factors were also pertinent. The nature of the “military revolution” thesis also poses a problem. Parker, and especially Roberts, link broad military and societal change to changes in tactics and military technology, and argue that these were both revolutionary and innovative. The problem is, as ever, one of terms. Not only is revolution a tricky concept, but clearly many tactical developments were hardly innovative in the sense of being truly original. Thus the use of dragoons in the Thirty 32

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Years’ War, for example, was little different from the use of mounted infantry in India and elsewhere in the late eighteenth century. Equally, the Spanish system of colonial defence based on fortresses and local militia mirrors the efforts of many European states to organize for defence at the beginning of the seventeenth century, for example, German states such as Nassau. What was really going on in large part was the clever adaptation of existing ideas to suit local circumstances. While at the micro level these changes in tactics could bring revolutionary results, in the sense of decisive local victories, it is difficult to link these together at the macro level into some all-embracing theory of revolutionary change. These changes have to be distinguished from true innovations, such as the flintlock and the socket bayonet, which altered the parameters of conflict. On sea as on land the military capability of the European powers was far from static in the period 1660–1792. There is still much work required on the age, but it is already clear that, in order to assess both the “Roberts century” and the Revolutionary/Napoleonic period it is essential to consider the intervening years. Doing so on the global scale underlines their importance.

Constraints Consideration of both the theory of revolutionary change and a global context of increasing European military power cannot, however, detract from the constraints affecting military operations in this period. In addition, discussion of military relations between European and non-European powers casts only a limited light on those between European states, because in the latter case gaps in military technology and technique were far smaller, both on land and at sea. This helped to prevent the seizure of European hegemony by any one state and thus preserved a characteristic feature of Europe: its division into a number of what were, by Oriental standards, small states. Constraints and limitations affected both the general nature of military forces and operational policy. This was most dramatically the case with naval warfare. Warship construction and maintenance required extensive and expensive dockyard f acilities. Establishments such as the British naval dockyards at Chatham and Portsmouth, their Swedish equivalent at Carlscrona, the Russian Admiralty yard in St. Petersburg, and the Venetian Arsenal, were among the largest permanent employers of labour in Europe, and in their own right centres of a strategic and profitable international trade in naval stores. Ships, however, remained, technically, wooden vessels dependent on the 33

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wind and requiring large crews, which posed problems of recruitment and supply. Desertion could make ships dangerous to operate, while the difficulty of obtaining supplies while at sea made logistics a formidable problem. Warships were expensive to build and the investment of effort and money that they represented and the time that they took to construct and equip (generally several years) encouraged tactics aimed at avoiding their loss. Ships were also difficult and expensive to maintain, with their wooden hulls prone to damage from barnacles and worms. Rigging and masts were vulnerable to the elements, and to cannon fire. The limitations produced by bad weather and adverse winds had no equivalent in land warfare, while the restrictions on winter campaigns were more pronounced than those affecting armies. Storms prevented amphibious French attacks on southern England planned for March 1744 and January 1746. The third Duke of Marlborough wrote from the Channel off Cherbourg in June 1758: “We had been excessive unlucky in our winds as I was prevented three days ago from landing on the coast of Normandy by a gale of wind…last night I had everything ready to attack the forts of this place, just before we stepped into the boats the wind blew so excessive hard that we were forced to desist, and have had great difficulty in preventing some of the transports from being blown on shore.” General Studholme Hodgson, commander of the British expedition to BelleÎle in 1761, reported at one stage, “we could get nothing landed yesterday, it blew so excessively hard”. 82 The possibility of poor weather and adverse winds continually had to be considered in naval planning at both strategic and operational levels. Warships were often unable to maintain blockading stations in poor weather. The principal innovations of the period still could not overcome all these problems. Copper sheathing reduced the difficulties caused by barnacles, weeds and the teredo worm and the loss of speed caused by these. Pioneered by the British, it had been generally adopted in their fleet by the 1770s. Improvements in signalling methods helped to ease the difficulties of operational command. They helped the British shift around the end of the eighteenth century towards the tactic of “breaking the line”—sailing towards the enemy line so as to position ships between those of their opponents and thus using the full weight of their fire against an enemy unable to do the same. Nevertheless, as with land conflict, naval warfare in 1815 had more in common with that of 1660 than with that of a century later. Navies could not “control” large areas of water: intelligence-gathering and communications were not sufficiently developed to permit them to do so, and Admiral Horatio Nelson found it difficult to locate French naval movements in 1798 and 1805. Naval vessels could, however, sink, seriously damage or capture their opponents, and naval warfare was thus potentially “decisive” in an operational sense. 34

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The issue of “decisiveness” will be addressed later, but a widespread inability to win or exploit “decisive” victories was not the only constraint affecting warfare on land. Indeed, it is possible to reverse the order of priorities of this and most other works of military history, with their emphasis on innovation, development, even revolutionary change, and triumph in all spheres, and, instead, to note continued limitations and problems that were not surmounted. It was the latter that were the most pressing, and thus change and reform have to be seen as being essentially reactive. As with other aspects of government activity, the extent to which action was taken in response to failure was especially notable. It was failure—for example, that of Austria in the First and Second Silesian Wars (1740–2, 1744–5), that of France in the Seven Years’ War (1756–63), and that of Prussia against Napoleon in 1806—that acted as the major spur to encourage the sense that something had to be done and thus overcome obstacles to change. Armies proved to be a good example of the clash between aspiration and reality that was such an obvious feature of the administration of the period and were possibly the most crucial instance of this, given their importance and the value attached to them. Failure made this clash obvious and highlighted pressure for action, although the frequency with which change was so often necessary or felt to be so was itself a commentary on the limitations of government action. The most significant constraints were posed by human limitations in the face of a hostile environment. This was most vividly demonstrated by sickness, which could gravely weaken armies and navies. There were over 3,000 British troops sick in hospital in Westphalia in 1761, enough to cause a shortage of men. Napoleon lost over 1,000 men to plague during his invasion of Palestine in 1799. Sickness also affected naval operations, as with the unsuccessful French attempt to regain Louisbourg in 1746 and the planned Franco-Spanish invasion of England in 1779. Sailing to India in 17 54, Admiral Watson thought it prudent to stop at Madagascar for fresh supplies as 170 of the crew on HMS Kent were ill with scurvy.83 Yet serious as health and supply problems were for long-distance oceanic operations, they did not prevent them, and in some cases, such as the treatment for scurvy, advances were made. The importance of experimentation in European science was shown by James Lind (1716–94), a naval surgeon, who published A treatise on the scurvy (1754), in which he correctly advocated the consumption of citrus fruit: this method of prevention, however, was only widely adopted from the 1790s. Lind, who served in Mediterranean, African and Caribbean waters, also worked on the cures for malaria and typhus among sailors and on supplying ships with fresh water by distillation. Poor communications were another serious problem. Most supplies had to be moved by cart and were thus dependent on the roads. This exposed armies to one 35

EUROPEAN WARFARE AND ITS GLOBAL CONTEXT

of the least effective areas of eighteenth-century government: road maintenance, and thus to the impact of the weather. The rainy summer of 1708 made the Russian and Lithuanian roads very soft, hindering Swedish military moves. Saxe wrote, “a! little rainy weather, and but a hundred or two of carriages are enough to break and destroy a good road to such a degree as to render it afterwards impassable”. In 1781 Lord Sheffield, lieutenant-colonel of a regiment that he had raised during the War of American Independence, noted, “every road I describe to be good, I consider as a military road, where heavy artillery and all kinds of carriages may pass”.84 Few were thus eligible, although the number of good roads increased. A carriage road through the Col (pass) deTende, which took 17 years to build, was opened in the 1780s, the first complete opening of an alpine pass to wheeled traffic. In France the Corps des Ponts et Chaussées, established in 1716, built or rebuilt over 12,000 miles of roads with a firm surface. The situation was particularly bad in eastern Europe and Iberia, although England was not the only part of western Europe to lack a network of good roads. In Poland, Russia and much of Germany the surface consisted of “crushed sand or of clay, which according to season was either stone hard or devoid of any foundation”.85 Crossing rivers posed a particular problem. In 1762 a British force was sent to help Portugal against a Franco-Spanish attack. Captain Fraser Folliott reported, “I have examined the ford at Belvere over theTagus…and do find five feet of water almost all the way over, on the bottom are large rocks and stones, and the current very rapid…the roads everywhere impassable for wheel carriages”.86 Fifty years later, good autumn weather ensured that the Duke ofWellington had to respond to a situation in which all the fords on theTagus could be crossed by the French.87 Even in north-west Europe, however, the roads could pose major problems. Poor weather, and, therefore, poor roads, delayed the French cannon intended for the siege ofTrarbach in the Moselle in 1734. Lieutenant-General Henry Conway reported from Westphalia in September 1762, “the heavy rains had so spoilt the roads and the whole country that the artillery couldn’t possibly get on”. In 1785 a British traveller en route from Verviers to Aachen found himself in “a narrow, sandy lane crowded with waggons carrying flour and ammunition to the Emperor’s troops in Flanders”88. In November 1745, Field Marshal Wade s army, marching from Newcastle to relieve Carlisle from a Jacobite siege got no further than Hexham, in Nothumberland, in large part because of the combination of bad roads and miserable weather. Rivers were often crucial supply routes, but the movement of supplies along them was affected by drought, floods, ice and a shortage of draught animals and was in any case slow, as the British discovered with theWeser in 1761.89 Poor roads exacerbated supply difficulties. Operations denuded whole areas, making it harder to obtain supplies, while a lack of forage for the horses and oxen, 36

CONSTRAINTS

and a consequent reliance on fresh grass, encouraged delay before campaigning began in the spring. British troops marching south from Emden in 1758 found East Frisia bare of supplies, the British commissionary Michael Hatton complaining: No contractors, no regular magazines…a continual rain [therefore] the roads are become so bad…the major part of the baggage is behind …the bread for want of covered waggons is dissolved, though I bought the best coverings I could, as is the two days bread the men had in their knapsacks, and I am afraid there is not a dry cartridge in the army. We have bread at Coesfeldt…but that can’t be got to us, nor we can’t get to that. There has not been a pot boiled these two days the rain put out all the fires…there are potatoes…which the men will get if the waters fall a little. When he reached Coesfeldt, Hatton found the available supplies inadequate and too expensive.90 A shortage of draught vehicles and animals, skilled blacksmiths and wheelwrights affected the logistics (provision of supplies) of many campaigns. Logistics was, like recruitment and finance, a sphere in which frequent attempts to ensure improvement testified to the intractability as well as the importance of the problem. It was not until the 1840s–60s that the invention of canned meat, dried milk powder, evaporated milk and margarine changed the per ishability and bulk of provisions. 91 Similarly, it was not until the development of extensive railway systems, and later of mechanized road transport, that military operations ceased to be dependant on the speed at which soldiers marched. General Korsakov’s army crossed the Russian frontier on 15 May 1799 and reached Prague two months later.92 Their average speed, at less than 15 miles a day, would have been cut had they been marching during spring thaw and flooding, autumn rain or winter snow. In all periods, military leaders complain about a lack of resources, a shortage of trained men and poor communications. To note these factors here does not imply that they were uniquely serious in early modern Europe, although the rise in the size of armies in 1660–1815 did indeed greatly increase the scale of supply and recruitment issues. More significantly, an emphasis on problems challenges a view of military history that simply concentrates on an increase, whether continuous or episodic and thus possibly described in terms of revolutions, in the power and scope of armed forces and military technology. This can be demonstrated if attention is turned to weaponry and tactics.

37

Chapter Two Weaponry and tactics

Firearms At the beginning of the period, as at the end, armies were divided into infantry, cavalry and artillery, with the infantry as the largest arm. Both on land and at sea, fighting was at close quarters: an exchange of fire at comparatively close range or, less frequently, hand-to-hand, and between opponents who were well within visual range. Mortars, howitzers and “bomb vessels” (ketches that carried mortars) could provide indirect fire, as could the new “rockets”, but most fire was direct, and the long-range fire of modern warfare was absent. Rockets were also wildly inaccurate. Artillery on land and sea continued to be smooth bore bronze or cast-iron muzzle-loaded cannon handled by muscle power. At sea, however, fighting was at less close quarters than it had been prior to the development of line-ahead tactics in the 1650s. Both cannon and handguns were single-shot weapons. There were nevertheless important changes in the weaponry used during this period and these were a significant factor in shifts in tactics, although the changes were far more than simply a consequence of developments in weaponry Both infantry and cavalry were armed with firearms and cold steel, but in 1660 the infantry was divided between the two arms, while by 1815 most infantrymen carried a composite weapon that incorporated the features of both: a musket equipped with a bayonet. The development of the bayonet dramatically altered infantry warfare and was more important than any of the tactical changes emphasized by Roberts. It led to the replacement of the pike, and of the pikemen who had been required for that heavy and unwieldy weapon. Pikes had been employed to protect musketeers from attack by cavalry and other pikemen. Bayonets were a better complement to firearms in fulfilling this defensive rôle, and also had 38

FIREARMS

an offensive capability against infantry and, on occasion, cavalry. The change was rapid, and one largely carried out in the 1690s and early 1700s. The Württemberg troops sent to campaign against the Turks in Greece in 1687–8 had no pikes, and the Saxon and Württemberg armies converted to bayonets between the late 1680s and the mid-1690s. In 1687 the Marquis de Louvois, the French army minister, instructed Vauban to make a prototype bayonet. Brandenburg-Prussia adopted the bayonet in 1689, Denmark in 1690. At the battle of Fleurus (1690) some German units attracted attention by repulsing French cavalr y attacks despite being ar med only with muskets and unsupported by pikes. The French abandoned the pike in 1703, and the British did so in 1704. Bayonets became more useful as a result of the replacement of the early plug style, which were inserted in the musket barrel and therefore prevented firing,1 by ring and socket bayonets, which allowed firing with the blade in place, although these could cause accidents during reloading. The ar ming of infantry with muskets fitted with bayonets increased firepower and both the offensive and defensive capacity of the infantry. It also led to greater tactical flexibility. It had been very complicated to co-ordinate pikemen and musketeers in order to ensure the necessary balance of defensive protection and firepower. The new system led to longer and thinner linear formations and shoulder-to-shoulder drill in order to maximize firepower. Casualty rates rose appreciably and most eighteenth-century battle injuries were caused by gunshot wounds rather than hand-to-hand conflict. Furthermore, the new weaponry increased the effectiveness of infantry in petite guerre: engagements that were not battles. In addition, infantry firepower increased as a consequence of a change in firearms. The flintlock musket, in which powder was ignited by a spark produced through the action of flint on steel, was more expensive but lighter, not requiring a rest, less unreliable, easier to fire and more rapid-firing than the earlier matchlock. The rate of fire, helped by the spread of pre-packaged paper cartridges, which provided the correct amount of powder, almost doubled. Without the hazard of the burning matches previously used to ignite powder, musketeers were able to stand closer together. The Austrians adopted the flintlock about 1689, the Swedes from 1696, the Dutch and English by 1700. Although French regulations permitted the use of flintlocks by some soldiers from 1670, matchlocks were not completely phased out until 1703. The spread of the flintlock was not instantaneous; unsurprisingly so, as the cost of one was equal to the annual wages of an agricultural labourer. Many Swedish units continued to use older forms of firearm, while the adoption of the bayonet did not at once lead to the end of the pike.2 The standard pattern flintlock musket—in Britain known as the “Brown 39

WEAPONRY AND TACTICS

Bess”—was more effective than its predecessors, but it still left much to be desired. The firing drill took time: the musketeer took a cartridge from his hip pouch, bit off the end containing the shot, poured a small amount of powder into the flashpan and emptied the rest down the barrel. He then inserted the shot and, using a ram-rod that was stored within the fire-stock of the musket, rammed it down the barrel with the empty paper cartridge on top to serve as wadding. When the trigger was pulled the small amount of powder in the flash-pan was ignited by a sparking flint and this, in turn, detonated the main charge in the barrel.3 Such a process required training and discipline, especially as it was to be carried out under fire from clearly visible hostile forces and was expected to be co-ordinated with other members of the same unit in order to produce volley fire. Fire could readily be disrupted by poor weather, especially by rain and, to a lesser extent, wind. Damp powder caused misfires. On 4 July 1738, at the battle of Cornea between Austria and Turkey, the Austrian “infantry’s arms were rendered almost useless by reason of the rain”. Marshall Saxe noted that “the present method of firing by word of command, as it detains the soldier in a constrained position, prevents his levelling with any exactness… according to the present method of loading, the soldiers, in the tumult and hurry of an engagement, very seldom ram down their charge, and are also very apt to put the cartridges into the barrel without biting off the caps, by neglecting to do which, many of the arms are of course rendered useless”.4 Even in perfect conditions, effective range for an individually aimed shot was only about 50 yards, although this has been the subject of much debate, and some certainly claimed to have shot accurately at greater range. It was unusual to exceed three shots a minute. Accuracy was compromised by the nature of the barrel (unrifled and, in order to avoid fouling by powder and recoil, generally a loose fit for the shot, and therefore of limited accuracy); the shot, often elliptical and thus unlikely to travel as designed; the slow lock time; the need for rapid firing; and the absence of accurate sights. The shot, as a result of the significant windage, “bounded” down the bore and might leave the barrel in any direction, a process known as balloting. Worn flints and blocked touch-holes caused misfiring. Reloading became more difficult as the bore fouled. It was not surprising, given the nature of the weaponry, that infantry tactics emphasized the volume of firepower rather than aimed fire. It was difficult in any case to aim in the noise and smoke of a battlefield, and the heavy weight of muskets led to musket droop—firing short. Another reason was the bruising produced by the recoil if the firing was heavy. Volume firepower was achieved 40

NEW WEAPONRY

by arranging the infantry in closely packed linear formations and training them to fire as fast as possible, a measure that further inhibited aiming. As a weapon capable of killing and used in volleys, the Brown Bess flintlock certainly achieved its purposes at 150 or 100 yards, and it has been claimed “that, with a combination of confidence and discipline, the highly trained professional armies of the eighteenth century could hit with some 10% to 20% of the shots”.5

New weaponry Such tactics were appropriate for battles in which similarly armed and organized forces were deployed and were also crucial in ensuring infantry super ior ity over cavalry; both these factors discouraged innovation. Nevertheless, there was a degree of interest in new weaponry. This can be divided into weapons that were adopted in some quantity, those that made little impact, and those that essentially remained speculative. The rifle was the most important in the first category. Although rifled barrels were used earlier by huntsmen and had been issued to some soldiers, they first became important as a battlefield weapon in this period. They were more accurate than the common flintlock musket and more appropriate for individually aimed fire. The rifle does, however, raise an issue of much concern then and since as to whether all infantrymen have the potential to be good shots. In the eighteenth century it was clearly felt that most had not attained this level. Rifles have also attracted attention because of their rôle in the American War of Independence. In popular history the conflict is often seen as a struggle between American frontiersmen firing with rifles, from behind cover, at the exposed ranks of British redcoats. The Kentucky or Pennsylvania rifle was indeed a formidable weapon at long range. Employed as a frontier gun, for hunting and Indian fighting, it was used only by frontiersmen. In 1775 ten companies of riflemen from the Maryland, Pennsylvania andVirginia frontier were raised by order of Congress to help the New England force outside British-occupied Boston. John Adams described them as “an excellent species of light infantry. They used…a rifle—it has circular…grooves within the barrel and carries a ball with great exactness to great distances. They are the most accurate marksmen in the world”. The riflemen from western Maryland under Michael Cresap were also armed with tomahawks and dressed in hunting shirts and moccasins. Fast-moving, the Marylanders marched 550 miles to Boston in three weeks, then started to thin the British sentr ies, exacerbating the hemmed-in and depressed atmosphere in Gage’s army. James Murray reported: 41

WEAPONRY AND TACTICS

the reason why so many officers fell is that there are amongst the provincial troops a number of enterprising marksmen, who shoot with rifle guns, and I have been assured many of them at 150 yards, will hit a card nine times out of ten…though these people in fair action in open field would signify nothing, yet over breast works, or where they can have the advantage of a tree (or a rock) and that may have every 20 yards in this country, the destruction they make of officers is dreadful. At Bemis Heights in September 1777 the riflemen under Daniel Morgan concentrated on picking off British officers. Burgoyne, the British commander, noted: The enemy had with their army great numbers of marksmen, armed with rifle-barrel pieces: these, during an engagement, hovered upon the flanks in small detachments, and were very expert in securing themselves, and in shifting their ground. In this action, many placed themselves in high trees in the rear of their own line, and there was seldom a minute’s interval of smoke in any part of our line without officers being taken off by a single shot. At King’s Mountain in South Carolina in October 1780 the victorious Revolutionaries fought with rifles “in their favourite manner…an irregular but destructive fire from behind trees and other cover…flying whenever there was danger of being charged by the bayonet, and returning again as soon as the British detachment had faced about to repel another of their parties”.6 Rifles, however, also posed serious problems. A rifle could carry no bayonet, took one minute to load and needed an expert to fire it, of which there were few. In 1778 General Anthony Wayne of the Pennsylvania Line asked the State Board of War to exchange all the rifles in his division for muskets, “I don’t like rifles. I would almost as soon face an enemy with a good musket and bayonet without ammunition—as with ammunition without a bayonet”. Wayne claimed that riflemen often fled in panic when attacked by soldiers armed with bayonets. Riflemen were described as “nearly useless outside woods because as they had no bayonets, they could make no resistance against cavalry”.7 The slow rate of fire of the rifleman was not much of a problem if sniping, but a serious problem in close-order fighting. Rifles could also be fouled by repeated firing, as could muskets, but the problem was increased in the rifle because the windage was so much less. Rifles were more expensive than flintlocks. Riflemen could make an important contribution when they had good cover, either natural or artificial, but these situations arose less frequently than is commonly supposed in American folklore with its romantic notions about frontier riflemen and their rifles. 42

NEW WEAPONRY

As a result of these characteristics, the rifle was seen essentially as a weapon for special units trained to fight in open order rather than for close-order fighting in massed formations: one of the crucial features of infantry conflict was that weapons were too heavy and unsophisticated for soldiers either to carry several firearms or to have one multi-purpose weapon. Rifles could be used as smoothbore muskets in order to increase the rate of fire, but the rifled grooves rapidly became clogged. Improvements in weaponry were sought frequently. In 1779 Major General Charles Rainsford submitted a plan for a mixed cavalry-light infantry force with arms “rifled, or otherwise well made, with sights like the German rifled barrel, and bayonets like the infantry”.8 Breech-loaded rifles were developed in Britain in the 1740s. As they did not need to have the shot rammed down the barrel they could be fired seven times a minute. Such guns, however, proved unsuited to frequent use, the loading mechanism being susceptible to clogging by powder. In 1758 the French began to manufacture a breech-loader, but the weapon was a failure and the inventor, Bordier, committed suicide.9 The great constructional problem with the breech-loading rifle was the escape of gas at the breech, and this was the cause of the major delay in its adoption in the nineteenth century. A high rate of fire was also a characteristic of another radical innovation, the Austrian Repetierwindbüchse (repeating air rifle), invented in 1780 and used until 1800. Employing compressed air from a flask in its stock, this air-rifle was very accurate, had a good range and was fitted with a 20-shot magazine that permitted a high rate of fire. The gun, however, needed frequent maintenance work, depended on a cumbersome portable air pump for reloading and was not readily mass produced.10 In about 1770 Edward Bate of London constructed an air gun in which the air was pressurized via a pump in its butt. These are examples of innovations that were practical but could not be adopted as major battlefield weapons. They reflected, however, the process of experimentation with firearms that led to improvements which were often individually unimpressive but cumulatively led to a considerable gain in effectiveness, for example the use of funnel-shaped touch holes. Thus new issue muskets (for example, the Russian Model 1709 and the Austrian Model 1798) were designed with this goal in mind. The same process affected the artillery, both on land and at sea. The early decades of the eighteenth century witnessed improvements to artillery that were particularly important in an era in which field artillery relied on muscleand horsepower over quite difficult ter rain. A strong but easily unfastened coupling mechanism allowed Swedish guns to be pulled into firing position with the muzzle to the front, instead of to the rear, thus saving on turning movements. A screw setting that controlled the height of the shot 43

WEAPONRY AND TACTICS

enabled field-guns to be aimed more accurately. Charles XII’s strong support for these innovations by General Carl Cronstedt had an appreciable effect on European artillery, as they were copied by Denmark, Russia and in the German Empire in the 1720s and 1730s. The Saxon field artillery that fired so rapidly at the storming of Prague in 1742 was based on the Swedish model. A French ordnance of 1720 led to the establishment of five artillery schools, part of the process by which the French artillery was reorganized that year under more direct government control.11 Improvements in cast-iron technology led to cast-iron guns becoming central in naval warfare in the second half of the seventeenth century. Iron was also much less expensive and weight was not so much of a factor aboard ship. Improved boring techniques during the following century enabled a reduction in the weight of cannon, giving more mobile deployment on the battlefield. A Swiss gunfounder, Johann Maritz (1680–1743), developed a new system of manufacturing cannon. Previously guns had been cast around a core—which it was very difficult to align accurately with the exterior—in a unique mold. In 1715, Maritz and his sons introduced a technique for casting them in the solid with the cascabel facing down, resulting in greater density at the breech where the shock of the discharge was greatest. The bore was then drilled out horizontally, producing a smoother and more accurate bore. The Maritz system spread throughout Europe. Maritz entered French service in 1734 and his son became inspector-general of French gunfoundries in 1755. The Maritz system was greatly improved by Jan Verbruggen who, with his son Pieter, headed the foundry at Woolwich from 1770, establishing there perhaps the finest cannonboring equipment in Europe. Improved casting was crucial to the effectiveness of artillery: poorly cast guns might crack and had to be allowed to cool between rounds. Guns became safer, more predictable, more uniform, and lighter, as the Maritz system permitted thinner barrels and a closer fit (windage) between shot and barrel, so that smaller powder charges were possible. The latter made it safer to reduce the thickness of the chamber in which the explosion occurred. 12 After the Seven Years’ War the Prussians produced a new type of howitzer, the 10-pounder, able to throw shells 4,000 paces. In the 1780s the British fleet was increasingly equipped with the carronade, a new, light (for the weight of the ball), short-barrelled cannon that was very effective at close quarters and required a relatively small crew. Described as “the first real innovation in naval ordnance since the introduction of brass guns in the sixteenth century”, it was used with great effect against the French at the battle of the Saints in 1782, and adopted by them from 1787 onwards.13 In the same period, the British and the French were also seeking to improve their army artillery. The French army was re-equipped with improved weapons; and 44

NEW WEAPONRY

a new musket was introduced in 1777. Under the direction of Jean Baptiste de Gribeauval, who exploited the new casting method and benefited from his own experience of the Prussian and, in particular, the Austrian artillery, the French artillery was made more mobile and improved generally, and his guns were used throughout the Napoleonic period. Gribeauval moved the emphasis away from siege artillery. Artillery was one sphere in which governments welcomed the opportunities presented by technical progress. In the 1760s Gribeauval introduced both a new sight and a screw device for accurately altering elevation. His combination of powder and shot increased the rate of fire. These mechanical innovations were complemented by improved training, including schools for artillery officers.14 The mobility and weight of cannon were the crucial issues. The adoption of horse artillery was very important. By the end of the eighteenth century, 9-pounders and 12-pounders were being used on the battlefield and field artillery was thus delivering a more powerful punch. In Britain, Lieutenant-General Thomas Desaguliers, Colonel Commandant of the Royal Artillery from 1762 until 1780 and Chief Firemaster (Superintendent) of the Woolwich arsenal from 1748 until 1780, made advances in the manufacture of cannon and in the science of gunnery. Desaguliers’ scientific ability led to his becoming the first artillery officer to be elected a fellow of the Royal Society. He developed the capabilities of mortars and worked on carronades and horse artillery15 Desaguliers also made successful experiments “with a composition for liquid fire”. He advanced experimentation with rockets in Britain following the work of the mathematician and gunnery expert Benjamin Robins (1707–51), who read papers to the Royal Society on rockets in 1749 and 1750; but these were developed by William Congreve (1772–1828), who in 1791 was attached to the Royal Laboratory at Woolwich and who spent his own money on his research. The inspiration was Indian: the use of war rockets against the British at Seringapatam in 1799. Congreve argued that “the rocket is, in fact, nothing more than a mode of using the projectile force of gunpowder by continuation instead of by impulse; it is obtaining the impetus of the cartridge without the cylinder, it is ammunition without ordnance, and its force is exerted without re-action or recoil upon the fulcrum from whence it originates”. A planned attack by boat-mounted rockets on the French invasion-port of Boulogne was thwarted by adverse winds in November 1805, but by then Congreve’s rockets had a range of 2,000 yards, and 500 could be discharged at one time from 10 launchers. By 1806 Congreve was making larger rockets, which were used in attacks on Boulogne (1806) and Copenhagen (1807). Congreve rockets caused extensive fires and panic when Flushing was attacked by a British amphibious force in 1809, although the fall of the town—to long-range bombardment 45

WEAPONRY AND TACTICS

without a breach in the fortifications—was due mainly to the superior British artillery. Congreve was then making 32-pounder rockets with a range of 3,000 yards, considerably greater than that of field artillery, but in 1810 the more mobile 12-pounder rocket was produced. Wellington was sceptical because of the difficulty of controlling the rockets’ flight, but Commodore Sir Home Popham, who operated on the Biscayan coast in 1812, pressed for Congreve’s rockets: “they are admirable… the Spaniards were quite astonished”. Congreve was permitted to raise two rocket companies, one of which served at the battle of Leipzig (1813). It impressed Alexander I of Russia, but caused fear rather than damage. The rockets had a similar effect at the British crossing of the river Adour in February 1814, but it was seen as decisive in leading the French to retreat. In 1814 Congreve became Comptroller of the Royal Laboratory and Superintendent of Military Machines, and in 1827 published A treatise on the general principles, powers, and facility of application of the Congreve rocket system, as compared with artillery. Congreve’s rockets were, however, expensive to produce. Both the French and the Saxons also used rockets.17 Congreve also worked in naval ordnance and developed a lighter long gun, somewhat resembling the carronade, which was adopted by the British navy. Rockets did not realize their potential until the 20th century. The same was true of submarines. The first known description of a viable submarine was published by the English mathematician William Bourne in 1578, but an American, David Bushnell (1740–1824), constructed the first operational machine. In 1774 he began to experiment with a submersible that would plant gunpowder beneath a ship; the following year a prototype was ready for testing and a way had been found to detonate a charge underwater. The wooden submarine contained a tractor screw operated by hand and pedals; a surfacing screw; a drill for securing the explosive charge, fitted with a time fuse, to the hull of the target; a depth pressure gauge, a rudder with a control bar; bellows with tubes for ventilation; ballast water tanks; fixed lead ballast; detachable ballast for rapid surfacing; and a sounding line. Though Bushnell described the armament as a “torpedo”, after the stinging crampfish of the genus Torpedinidae, it was, in fact, an underwater minelayer, described as: a new machine for the destruction of ships…it doth not exceed 7 feet in length, and the depth not more than 51/2 feet…plan is to place the cask containing the powder on the outside of the machine, and it is so contrived, as when it strikes the ship which he proposes shall be at the keel it grapples fast to the keel and is wholly disengaged from the machine. He then rows off. The powder is to be fired by a gun lock fixed within the cask which is sprung by watch work, which he can so order as to have that take place at any distance of time he pleases. He can row it 46

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either backward or forward under water…he has an anchor by which he can remain in place to wait for tide, opportunity etc… the whole machine may be transported in a cart. The same year, Joseph Belton of Groton presented to the Pennsylvania Committee of Safety his plan for a submersible, designed, unlike Bushnell’s, to carry one or more cannon, which was expected to hole warships below their water-line. These ideas were genuinely revolutionary, offering a mode of warfare against which the British had no defence. Bushnell’s Turtle could only attack ships at anchor, but, even so, the anchorages of the British fleet at Boston, New York and Newport provided obvious targets. The Turtle was first employed, against HMS Eagle in New York harbour, on 6 September 1776. Bushnell, however, encountered serious problems with navigating in the face of the currents and could not attach the charge, which went off harmlessly in the water. The second attempt, against HMS Phoenix on 5 October 1776, also failed. The Turtle was spotted, Bushnell s depth measurer failed and he lost his target. In 1777 Bushnell used floating explosive charges. Bushnell had received little financial support from a hard-pressed government and Belton had no luck, finding that Congress “had no great opinion of such proposals”. This could be seen as a serious failure on the part of the Revolutionary government, although the results of the Turtle’s operations were not encouraging and George Washington pointed out the difficulty of operating the machine satisfactorily. Alongside the fascination with the novel there was an awareness of the difficulties posed by introducing new developments that can be seen as a reluctance to adopt them. This was the case with the submarine. Another American, Robert Fulton, produced one in 1797, but found neither the French nor the British, then at war with each other, greatly interested in its acquisition, although this is less surprising given the high price he proposed for the “destructive powers and easy practice of the engines”. His experiments for the French in 1800–1 included the testing of a system of compressed air in a portable container and the successful destruction of a vessel by an underwater explosion. Fulton proposed the use of steamships for an invasion of England, but in 1803 the French Academy of Sciences rejected the idea. In Britain in 1804–6, Fulton worked on mines; they were used, with scant effect, for an attack on shipping in Boulogne in 1804, but in trials in 1805 Fulton became the first to sink a large ship with a mine. British interest declined, however, after the Battle of Trafalgar. During the AngloAmerican War of 1812, Fulton played a rôle in unsuccessful American experiments with a submarine, mines and underwater guns. He was held back in his experiments with torpedos from 1807 onwards by his failure to devise an effective firing device. In 1807–10 a Russian, Ivan Fitstum, made advances in 47

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electrical detonation and the use of floating mines for harbour defences, 18 while in 1809 Napoleon Bonaparte authorized a French company to build a submarine.19 It is clear from suggestions made over the years that very different weapons were envisaged by some. Apart from Leonardo da Vinci’s consideration of revolutionary new weapons systems, the painting The Temptation of St Anthony by Jan Mandign (c. 1500–c. 1560) contained a primitive shooting armoured vehicle.20 In his Mathematical magick: or, the wonders that may be performed by mechanical geometry (London: 1648; 4th edn, 1691), John Wilkins (1614–72) (Warden ofWadham College, Oxford (1648–59), Master ofTrinity College, Cambridge (1659–60), first Secretary of the Royal Society (1662–72) and Bishop of Chester (1668–72)) included chapters dealing with “a sailing Chariot”, “the possibility of framing an Ark for submarine Navigation”, “the Art of flying”, “the two chief difficulties that seem to oppose the possibility of flying a Chariot”, “Of a perpetual motion”, etc. In 1707 Denis Papin, the Huguenot Professor of Mathematics at Marburg, demonstrated before Landgrave Karl of Hesse-Cassel a steam cannon that he claimed would be capable of firing a heavier shot than any then in use further than any existing cannon. His cannon blew up while firing its first shot, leading to several deaths. Papin also demonstrated the first working steamboat, the Retort, that same year at Cassel, only to have the boat speedily demolished by rivermen who feared competition. It was not until 1783, on the Saône near Lyons, that the Marquis Jouffroy d’Abbans conducted the next successful demonstration of a workable steamboat.21 Most proposals were more practical: a horse-drawn observation machine; “a portable chevaux de frise” (obstacle behind which infantry could defend themselves); and an alarm pole which could also serve as a temporary beacon.22 Eight flintlock “grenade guns”, probably for shooting flares or fireworks, were made for Prince George of Denmark by James Ermendinger in about 1690. Antoine Groignard, chief engineer of the French East India Company, tried in the mid-eighteenth century to systematize the construction of the Company’s ships, which were big enough to act as warships if required, and to provide interchangeable sails, but was unsuccessful. During the American War of Independence, David Rittenhouse studied methods of grooving cannon, using telescopic sights and incorporating ammunition compartments in rifles. A great chain was stretched across the Hudson at West Point in order to block British vessels, one of the longest and largest iron chains ever forged and a considerable technological triumph.23 In about 1780 Henry Nock, a London gun designer, created a seven-barrelled flintlock or “Volley gun”, for use at sea. Other ideas were more fantastic. In February 1776 William Gosforth, a New York artisan who had become a radical politician and military commander, 48

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wrote to Benjamin Franklin, a prominent American revolutionary also noted for his experiments with electricity: I understand you are a great man that you can turn the common course of nature that you have power with the Gods and can rob the clouds of their tremendous thunder. Rouse once more my old Trojan collect the heavy thunders of the united colonies and convey them to the regions of the north and enable us to shake the Quebec walls or on the other hand inform us how to extract the electric fire from the center. Then perhaps we may be able to draw a vein athwart their magazine and send them upwards cloathed as Elijah was with a suit of fire. The following year Tom Paine worked on a crossbow which would throw an iron arrow across the Delaware, “enclosing fire in a bulb near the top”, while Joseph Belton received congressional support for a musket allegedly able to fire eight rounds with one loading, although there is no sign that he ever fulfilled the order. In 1778 John Stevens attempted to build “a machine in the river at West Point, for the purpose of setting fire to any of the enemy’s shipping that might attempt a passage up it”.24 In 1806 John Gillespie tried to interest the British government in a scheme for coastal defence against Napoleonic France: impregnable batteries each with one cannon firing balls of 150 pounds, 160 of which would suffice to defend Britain.25 These plans are a reminder that the conservatism that is commonly held to characterize warfare in this period has to be qualified. Yet it is reasonable to point first to the extent to which discussion of different ideas often related not to a search for the new but rather a return to the old, and secondly to the contrast between change in 1660–1815 and over the following century and a half. The former reflects the cultural influence of the past as a sphere of reference and validation and the extent to which contemporary warfare could be understood in classical terms: the Greeks, Macedonians and Romans had not had gunpowder weapons, but their forces, with a mixture of infantry and cavalry, cold steel and projectiles, were not as far removed from eighteenthcentury parallels as is the modern world. Interest in the classical world was, in fact, stronger in the age of gunpowder than in the Middle Ages, because the printing revolution had been followed by the widespread “re-discovery” and availability of classical texts, while elite literacy had risen. Comparisons with the classical world could relate to general points of military culture, as soldiers sought to locate themselves in an exemplary fashion. Thomas Ashe Lee sought an historical comparison to the Culloden campaign by reading Caesar, and compared the Highlanders with the Gauls.26 49

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In addition, there was an interest in searching the past for military models. Thus in about 1660 the use of archers also armed with pikes was proposed for the French army. It was claimed that archers could fire five times as fast as musketeers, inflict more serious injuries, carry more shots, bear harsher weather conditions, and cost less.27 In the following century the leading French general of the 1740s, Marshal Saxe, was interested in reviving the pike, as was the Encyclopédie (1751–65), the repository of fashionable French opinion; while the weapon also had revolutionary credentials. The use of cold steel was seen as a more vigorous means of fighting than a reliance on firepower. Pikes and weapons first appeared in the general orders for Washington’s army in July 1775 and were last mentioned in August 1776, and they were used by Pennsylvania Associators from August 1775. That month Franklin drew up a memorandum for the Pennsylvania Committee of Safety supporting the use of pikes in the rear one or two ranks of units, “the spirit of our people supplies more men than we can furnish with firearms…a charge made with [pikes] insupportable by any battalion armed only in the common manner…each pikeman to have a cutting sword, and where it can be procured, a pistol”. Virginian riflemen sent to help North Carolina in 1776 were also armed with pikes. Fortunately for the Revolutionaries, this attempt to compensate for the absence of sufficient firearms was not tested in battle: unwieldy pikemen would have presented easy targets for British musketeers. The French Revolution led to renewed interest in the vigour of attacks with cold steel and in the pike, which was seen as a people’s weapon, while the pike became the “characteristic military implement” of the Irish insurgents of 1798.28 Another aspect of conservatism that was important was the experience and “collective mentality” of army and navy officers and men. The influence of early training and of “collective wisdom” acquired from the survivors of earlier campaigns played a great part, especially in tactics. There is a danger of seeing weaponry and tactics from too much of a technical standpoint and of underrating this human dimension. The absence of intensive peace-time training for most officers, soldiers and sailors must also have encouraged the use of relatively simple fighting methods. The continued weight placed upon heavy cavalry was possibly a clearer example of conservatism than the interest in discarded weaponry. The cavalry could still play a major rôle in securing victory, as at Blenheim (1704), Hohenfriedberg (1745), Soor (1745), Rossbach (1757) Kunersdorf (1759) and Warburg (1760), but the battlefield rôle of cavalry declined markedly, as did the percentage of armies that the cavalry comprised. Cavalry was more expensive than infantry, about three times as much as a rough guide, of limited value in hilly terrain and the enclosed countryside that was becoming more prominent and less effective in the face of infantry armed with flintlock muskets and bayonets. 50

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French cavalry charges on the British infantry at Fontenoy (1745) were stopped by musket fire before they could reach the British lines. At Minden (1759) advancing Br itish infantry drove back French cavalry. Scottish Highlanders stopped British cavalry at Falkirk in 1746: they did so by first outnumbering them by 1,500–2,000 to 900; and, secondly, as Hawley’s cavalry advanced, Murray’s Highlanders slowly did the same. When the two lines were within 10–15 yards of one another, the Highlanders fired a devastating volley which disordered the British cavalry. Thereafter, the clansmen drew their swords, charged, and then hacked at the horses’ legs. The continued prestige of cavalry in part reflected cultural factors: the central rôle in European society of the aristocracy and their traditional association with the horse as a symbol of their power and distinction. Conservatism in weaponry was also a function of technology and there were no shifts comparable to those that were to come. In the introduction to his On naval warfare with steam (London, 1858), General Sir Howard Douglas claimed, with reason, that “the employment of steam as a motive power in the warlike navies of all maritime nations, is a vast and sudden change in the means of engaging in action on the seas, which must produce an entire revolution in naval warfare, and must render necessary the immediate adoption of new measures in tactics and new material resources”. Warships were now able to manoeuvre in calms and make headway against contrary winds. There was nothing comparable in naval warfare in 1660–1815, although improvements included better equipment and hull design; sail plans, steering mechanism, and the copper sheathing of the hull.29 Nevertheless, “shipbuilding policy during the century“ in Britain, the leading global maritime power, “was marked by long periods of conservatism interspersed with short bursts of change…the basic principles of the age remained unchallenged”.30 On land, the crucial constraints of transport and communications changed radically in the nineteenth century as aspects and consequences of what is ter med the Industr ial Revolution. By 1815 the technological and organizational changes summarized by that phrase were still restricted in their scope and impact. The major transformations in theoretical and applied science and technology in most fields, whether transportation, the generation and distribution of power, public health or agricultural yields, all of which were to affect warfare, were yet to come. The widespread impact of industr ial technology and of intellectual and institutional forms for mass industrial society were characteristic of the American Civil War of 1861–5,31 not of Napoleonic warfare. Conversely, the argument that it was not the development of firearms alone that transformed warfare between 1500 and 1830 but rather the development of printing, literacy and numeracy,32 would again place the focus of innovation outside the period 1660–1815. 51

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There were major technological problems inhibiting significant change during the period 1660–1815, although there were considerable differences of degree between individual states in their industrial base. Although industrial development was important, the technological level of most industries was fairly low and innovations often spread only very slowly. Difficulty, for example, “in preparing a strong but tensile steel alloy” delayed the adoption of iron or steel ramrods. Despite theoretical advances in ballistics, by, for example, Benjamin Robins in his New principles of gunnery (1742), “interior ballistics remained a mystery”, and cannon manufacture did not correspond to modern notions of precision engineering.33 Much industrial plant was primitive, prone to climatic disruption and dependent on a poorly educated labour force. Skilled labour was often in short supply. The provision of fuel was often erratic, fuel economy limited, and machinery working parts likely to break down. Poor communications and high transport costs affected industrial efficiency. Industrial units were often very small, with little specialization either in machinery or labour. There was a general disinclination to innovate, understandably so in a culture where training was largely acquired on the job and where tradition determined most industrial practices. In 1725 the master founder at the gun foundry at The Hague decided not to adopt the Maritz technique, and in 1755, when Jan Verbruggen became master founder there, he was handicapped by antiquated boring machinery. A combination horizontal boring mill and finishing lathe machine was installed in 1758, but thereafter Verbruggen continued to be affected by imperfect castings, which he attributed to faulty furnace design. The Woolwich foundry delayed before adopting technological advances. 34 The artisanal mentality included a sense of the importance of traditional values and the limited and precarious financial resources of most enterprises discouraged innovation. Most contracts were short-term, hindering the development of a relative security that might encourage often expensive investment in new plant. Most plant was fairly simple and there was rarely an opportunity or need for the costly retooling that might have encouraged innovation. There was no technological or industrial base to encourage or initiate innovation in weaponry; no William Armstrongs or Alfred Krupps who had the potential to mass produce successful experimental weapons. Technological limitations were in part related to scientific problems. Standards of scientific proof were not always rigorous and the facilities for the necessary experimentation often absent. It was difficult to make standard instruments and replicate laboratory results, while research in chemistry was hindered by the difficulty of quantifying chemical reactions. Good vulcanized tubing did not appear until the 1840s. Theoretical advances were not always easy to apply. Nevertheless, advances were made: two French chemists invented 52

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a way of manufacturing saltpetre, the leading constituent of gunpowder. In 1783, when he was an army engineer, Lazare Carnot published an essay on friction in machines in which he drew attention to the principle of continuity in the transmission of power. In addition, advances were made that were to be pregnant with military possibilities. Two years after Henry Cavendish’s 1776 discovery that hydrogen is lighter than air, Joseph Black suggested it could be released into a bladder. Hydrogen was used as a lifting agent in a balloon commissioned by the French Académie des Sciences in 1783 and manufactured by the physicist, J.A.C. Charles, who flew in it. Earlier that year the Montgolfier brothers had used hot air to send a balloon up to 6,000 feet. The self-educated Joseph Montgolfier also used his ideas on the expansive power of heat to work on a heat pump, an ancestor of the internal combustion engine. The widespread interest in heat and motion led also to experiments with the industrial use of steam power and with steam locomotion, and to Meusnier’s designs for cigar-shaped steerable balloons. N.J.Cugnot invented the steam carriage in the 1770s. The French used hot air balloons to carry messages in 1793, and in 1794 a balloon played a valuable reconnaissance rôle for the French at the battle of Fleurus.35 Thereafter, about 20 more were sent to French armies. Napoleon’s decision to disband them and to reject Fulton’s proposals for submarines and mines have been used to indicate “his inherent military conservatism”, 36 but the difficulties of transporting the gas-generating apparatus and the time required to inflate the balloons gravely limited their value.37 The amount of smoke on contemporary battlefields obscured the view: observation balloons only really became a practical instrument when smokeless gunpowder was invented at the end of the nineteenth century. Many new ideas could not serve as a practical basis for widely disseminated products: as has already been suggested, the technological and industrial framework was absent, while governmental support was of limited extent and impact. Successful innovation in weaponry was concentrated not on new departures, such as aerial warfare and submarines, but rather on improvements to existing weapons and weapons systems, most obviously firearms, artillery and warships. New muskets, such as the American “Model of 1795”,38 the Austrian Model 1798, and the Prussian 1801 and 1809 models, were more effective. Cannon came to have more hitting power. The Austrian range of ordnance introduced in 1753, especially the 12-pounder, had a good balance of mobility and firepower. It was copied by Frederick the Great and improved on by the French, who introduced secure mobile gun carriages and guns of greater range and power. The development of the shrapnel shell, a spherical hollow shell filled with bullets and bursting charges invented by Henry Shrapnel (1761– 1842) of the British Royal Artillery, was hindered by manufacturing problems 53

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and difficulties in producing an adequate fuse. Shrapnel began his experiments at his own expense in 1784 but it was not until 1803 that his shell “was recommended by the Board of Ordnance for adoption. First used in April 1804, the new shell was employed to considerable effect in the Peninsular War, particularly at the Battle of Bussaco (1810) and at Waterloo, although Wellington pointed out that the shell was effective only if the fuse was correctly set and that this was difficult to observe from the gun position.39 The Revolutionary/Napoleonic period saw an increased application of scientific method to certain aspects of military afffairs. In 1798 Eli Whitney pioneered the mass production of weapons by manufacturing muskets with interchangeable parts. Claude Chappe developed the semaphore telegraph in the same period. He was given official approval in 1793 and the network of semaphore stations, with an average distance of seven miles between each, created from 1794 by the Revolutionary government was extended by Napoleon to reach Venice, Amsterdam (1810) and Mainz (1813). The system had a capacity of 196 different combinations of signs and an average speed of three signs a minute; code could be employed. In favourable weather, one sign could be sent the 150 miles from Paris to Lille in five minutes, although fog, poor weather and darkness gravely limited the system. No better system of communications was devised until the electr ic teleg raph. Napoleon investigated the possibility of a mobile semaphore system for his 1812 invasion of Russia, but it was considered unviable. In the 1790s the British admiralty was linked to Portsmouth by semaphore, and Sweden built some stations. Nine stations were constructed along the Lines of Torres Vedras, fortified positions built by Wellington to protect Lisbon in 1810. In good weather a message could be sent the 22 miles from the Atlantic to theTagus in seven minutes. Chappe’s work was translated into English by Lieutenant-Colonel John Macdonald, a military engineer, who did much work himself on improving telegraphy.40 Nevertheless, semaphore networks were very limited and most orders and reports were still handwritten and communicated by mounted messengers. Naval shipbuilding improved, particularly in France, Spain and Britain. Under Louis XIV the French gover nment sought to establish naval shipbuilding on a theoretical basis, but “mathematical description of the theoretical pr inciples of la manoeuvre, the disposition of sails and the positioning of rudders, made not the slightest contribution to the improvement of warships. The actual construction of warships continued to be carried out after age-old practices by shipwr ights who received their training by apprenticeship”. The Jesuit scientist Paul Hoste complained: “It is by luck that a good ship is built, for those who still make them are no better than those who build without knowing how to read or write”, though the limitations of 54

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contemporary science were demonstrated by his inaccurate explanation of why ships do not capsize. During the eighteenth century progress was not generally achieved by the investigation of mechanical principles as “the content of science moved ever farther away from the descriptive, ambiguous world of the shipbuilder, filled with limitations and constraints, toward a more extensive use of abstract concepts” defined by mathematics. Instead, it was the development of the profession of naval engineering with its combination of a general mathematical culture and the study of the old rules for building ships to find the best practice that was decisive.41 The French utilized new scientific ideas, such as the work of Leonhard Euler on fluid resistance and floating bodies and in 1752 established the Académie royale de Marine at Brest. Innovations were copied. Thus Sir Thomas Slade, surveyor of the British navy 1755–71, working from Spanish and French warships captured in the 1740s, designed a ser ies of double-decker Br itish 74s that were both manoeuvrable and capable of holding their own in the punishing artillery duels of line of battle engagements. Fourteen were in service by 1759 and they played a major rôle in the British victories of the Seven Years’ War. The manufacture of weapons reflected the nature of industry in the period. Most firearms were produced in small workshops, private as well as public, and mass standardized production of military supplies was far from easy. Before the age of steam power, there was effectively “no arms industry” in the modern sense, with the important exception of warship construction and maintenance: the British dockyard at Chatham employed 1,700 men in the eighteenth century. At Toulon approximately 3,000 people—over half the adult male working population—were directly employed on a regular basis by the naval authorities.42 There was less concentration in the manufacture of weaponry for land warfare. Even industrial towns such as Nuremberg (swords and bayonets), Sühl (muskets, pistols and swords), Birmingham, Liège and Toledo had no arms “factories”. Instead, they were still essentially collections of small workshops. The putting-out system characterized arms production in the same way as any other industr ial effor t. There were, therefore, ser ious problems with standardization. The French 1754-model flintlock was largely handmade, the parts were not interchangeable and the lock was intricate and difficult to standardize. The situation was still poor in the early 1790s—with very limited interchangeability.43 Britain was increasingly the leading commercial and industrial power in Europe and the world, but her economy faced serious problems in meeting military demands. Proposals to equip more troops with rifled weapons were thwarted by an inability to produce them.44 Greatly fluctuating demands for gunpowder created problems for the Ordnance Office and the private 55

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gunpowder makers, and at the outset of the Seven Years’ War the makers failed to provide the required and agreed amount, so that the war effort in 1756–8 depended partly on substantial imports from the United Provinces. In the winter of 1761–2 some warships had to sail from Portsmouth and Plymouth without their full complement of powder. The dispatch of gunpowder to units in the field was often haphazard and inefficient, and there were particular problems in supplying units in North America: distance, difficult terrain and tricky relations with colonial governments. Whether in office or in opposition, British politicians were reluctant to mobilize for total war by extending the powers of gover nment in the crucial field of gunpowder production and distr ibution. Rather than focusing on an unhelpful conservatism, however, it is appropriate to note first “that in the current level of scientific and technological knowledge, and organization of manufacture it was virtually impossible for the quantity or quality of gunpowder to be improved to any significant degree” and, secondly, that given the situation “it was usually the firm, traditional, and unchanging methods to which it was accustomed which enabled the [Ordnance] Office to function as effectively as it did”. 45 In 1715 the Board of Ordnance instituted the “Ordnance system of manufacture”, by which the Ordnance contracted among different manufacturers for the parts of firearms which were stored by the government and, when required, sent to private gunsmiths for assembly. This ensured both that the Ordnance had necessary supplies and that patterns could be enforced. The standard pattern flintlock was known, as has already been mentioned, as the Brown Bess. 46 It is also pertinent to consider the large quantity of arms produced in Europe. There is no doubt of the limitations of European weaponry, indeed it was estimated in 1757 that many Russian muskets could not fire six times without danger of breaking, but, compared to other parts of the world, Europe was able to produce large quantities of effective weapons and to replace them in similar quantities. The main Russian state arsenal at Tula, where the first Russian gun factory had been opened in 1632, produced an annual average of nearly 14,000 muskets between 1737 and 1778. 47 In the 1760s the French produced 23,000 annually at Charleville and Saint Etienne.48 Such production allowed the heavy use of munitions in war. In the siege of the citadel of Belle-Île in 1762 the British fired 17,000 shot and 12,000 shells from a battery of 30 guns and 30 mortars. There were problems with the ordnance supplies, but the siege was successful. In 1782 Captain James Horsbrugh, Adjutant-General in Gibraltar, recorded of a not particularly important day in the Spanish siege: “Their fire in the last 24 hours amounted to 203 shot and 33 shells.” The British Ordnance department complained in 1702 that “too often the bombs and shells have been filled with sand instead of 56

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proper ingredients”, but its stocks and supply of armaments were such that between 1701 and mid-1704 it issued 56,000 muskets. The department was unable to meet fully the demands of the Hanoverian government for shells in 1758–53,000 mortar and howitzer shells, 132,879 3-pounder cannon shot, as well as 6, 12, 18 and 24-pounder shot; demands that testified to the industrial pressures of European warfare—but it was able to supply 9,000 mortar and howitzer shells, 10,000 18-pounder and 25,000 24-pounder shot: at a time when Britain was engaged in a major war. Military needs and reserves grew in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. In 1766 France had over 4,300 masts in its naval stores and by 1770 a naval reserve of 1,900,000 cubic feet of wood. Ten years later the British force of 6,000 men in St. Lucia under Major-General Vaughan requested from the Ordnance Office stores that included 1,800 spades, 600,000 musket cartridges, 200,000 flints, 50 tons of musket balls, 2,400 cannon shot and 2,000 barrels of powder.49 The need to equip the French Revolutionary armies led to the creation of a large powder factory at Grenelles, producing 30,000 pounds of gunpowder daily, while in 1793–4 nearly 7,000 new cannons and howitzers were cast. 50 Operating on the Biscayan coast in 1812, Popham set a local foundry to work and reported that he would soon have “10 inch shells and 36 pounder shot made as fast as we can use them”. 51 The following August, Napoleon had a reserve of 18 million musket cartridges. Between 1795 and 1815 the British produced at least 3,212,000 small arms and in 1814 there were 743,000 serviceable muskets in store.52 In most of Africa, Australasia and the Pacific there was no metallurgical or shipbuilding industry to compare with that of Europe, and in the Islamic world and India the industries were not of comparable quality. Generally, Indian cannon were poorly cast and mounted when compared to European guns, while firearm production was not standardized. The Turks concentrated on large cannon, which were of little use on the battlefield, rather than on the production of larger numbers of smaller but more mobile pieces. Austrian cannon encouraged the Turks’ retreat in 1738 at the battles of Cornea and Mehadia. 53 European superiority was not unchallenged. Apart from the Chinese, whose massive armies were only peripherally used against European forces in this period, certain Indian polities, most significantly the Maratha Confederation, had significant quantities of good-quality firearms. William Kirkpatrick, British Resident with one of the Maratha leaders, reported of the artillery in 1787, “A few of these are very good guns; but in general they are contemptible”. However, in the 1800s, Maratha field artillery cast in bronze was numerous and of high quality, and it posed a serious problem for Arthur Wellesley, later the first Duke ofWellington, in the Second Maratha War of 1803.54 57

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Yet there was nothing to compare with the heavily gunned specialist warships that the European powers could build and maintain: the frigates and galleys of the North African Barbary states were a nuisance, but no comparison in individual or total strength, and the Turkish navy, though stronger, was only a local force. In 1728 a French force of two ships of the line, four frigates and three bomb vessels under Nicolas de Grandpré were refused recompense for privateering by the North African state of Tripoli. A six-day non-stop bombardment in which 2,000 shells were fired, causing great damage, led Tripoli to agree to treat. In 1769–70 French naval bombardment of Bizerta and Sousa forced the Bey of Tunis to accept the French acquisition of Corsica.55 European naval superiority remained unchallenged until the Japanese defeat of Russia in 1904–5. Without this, transoceanic European colonialism would have been very difficult. The mass production of standardized military parts for firearms or artillery, in so far as it existed, was essentially European and American. In 1787 Cornwallis was able to give away gunpowder “as we have more even if we had a war, than we could use before it would be spoiled”. The British first used the shrapnel shell in an attack on Dutch-held Surinam (in South America) in 1804. No non-European state was capable of such a range, apart from the USA, which launched attacks on the Barbary States. In 1799 the Washington Navy Yard was founded to construct 74-gun ships of the line; in 1809 it was enlarged by adding a coke oven. European powers could deploy large quantities of armaments abroad. Preparing for the siege of Pondicherry, the leading French base in India, John Call, the British military engineer, noted in July 1760 that he would have “30 24-pounders, and 20 18-pounders, besides small guns, 6 large mortars and 12 Royals or Coehorns [mortars], with ammunition for 40 days firing at 25 cannon per day”. When Pondicherry fell the following January, the British captured 517 cannon, 13 howitzers, 82 mortars, 60,264 lead shot, 22,599 hand grenades, 368,640 muskets, 98,980 carbines, 46,830 pistols and 20,700 gingalls [heavy muskets fired from a rest].56 In 1811 the Dutch positions at Fort Cornelis south of Batavia (Java) had 280 cannon. Metallurgical industries were best developed in Russia and Britain. The copper and iron deposits of the Urals served as the basis for a major metallurgical industry mainly worked by unskilled compulsory labour that was actively encouraged by Peter I. The development of its British counterpart (for example, ironworks in the West Midlands and copper-smelting in South Wales)57 was also closely linked to the needs of war, while naval shipbuilding facilities both in Europe and in colonial bases, most significantly Havana, were large, specialized institutions. Colbert developed an ordnance industry in France—in Perigord and the Angoumois—and the number of regulation cannon in the French navy rose from 760 in 1661 to 8,973 in 1700.58 New gun 58

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foundries were established, including at The Hague (1665), Woolwich (1716) and Vienna (1747). In 1748 the Dutch adopted the Maritz technique and in 1773 a new horizontal boring machine was introduced at Woolwich. 59 A similar tool was developed by the West-Country ironfounder John Wilkinson, whose precisely bored cannon were used by both Britain and France. The extent to which “European” industry could readily serve for the production of firearms was clearly demonstrated in the American War of Independence. French assistance was crucial, 23,000 muskets alone being supplied in 1777, but, in addition, armament plants were established at Fredericksburg, Virginia and Providence, while in 1775 gunpowder milk were established in Hartford and Rhinebeck. Foundries were constructed at Easton, East Bridge-water, Lancaster, Principio, Springfield and Trenton, and craftsmen shifted production. In late 1775 all gunsmiths and blacksmiths in North Carolina were ordered to make muskets and bayonets, in New England makers of muskets sprang “out of pail makers, boatmen and farmers”, while Benjamin Franklin noted, “We are using the utmost industry in endeavouring to make saltpetre, and with daily increasing success. Our artificers are also everywhere busy in fabr icating small ar ms, casting cannon etc. Yet both ar ms and ammunition are much wanted.” Soon after Nathanael Greene’s appointment to command in the South in 1780, he decided to begin production of musket cartridges at Salisbury.60 The independent United States was to be capable of producing sufficient weaponry for its needs. Indeed, after the Crimean War (1853–6) Russia acquired American machinery, production techniques and skilled workers in an attempt to modernize its small-arms industry. 61 The acquisition of American machinery for weapons production after the Crimean War was also something done by Britain. A team of inspectors were sent out by the Board of Ordnance to bring equipment back from Colt and others. In the European world the technology therefore existed to support both naval power with a global reach, and armies equipped with firearms and artillery, and able to use large quantities of shot and powder. Innovation continued. Flintlocks were applied to cannon in the British navy from 1778, as a result of the initiative of Captain Sir Charles Douglas, who fitted out his ship of the line, HMS Duke, with them at his own expense. This led to faster, more reliable and better-controlled fire. The British benefited at the battle of the Saints in 1782 and other navies followed suit. In 1807 Alexander Forsyth, a Scottish cler ic, patented the use of fulminates of mercury in place of gunpowder, as a new primer for firearms. Mercury fulminates ignited when struck—there was no need for detonation—and the resulting use of the percussion cap produced a reliable, all-weather ignition system; the dramatic reduction of misfires resulted in a tremendous increase in firepower. However, a lack of government support delayed the use and development of Forsyth’s 59

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invention,62 and the major technological breakthroughs represented by general use of the percussion cap and the minie ball did not come until after 1815. Technological and logistical constraints were still of great importance, but it is important not to lose sight of the scale of the continuous military effort in the major conflicts of the period. The extent to which this permitted the pursuit of decisive victory will be considered, but first it is necessary to turn to the tactical consequences of the weaponry available.

Tactics The nature of the weaponry led to a stress on the general firepower contribution of a unit rather than on individual shooting. This was further encouraged by the extent to which, as a result of continual infusions of new recruits, soldiers were often inexperienced and judged to be unreliable. This encouraged training through drill in infantry tactics. The regulations for the First Battalion of the Norfolk Regiment in 1780 stated: “In Firing great care to be taken that the Battalion is in close order, that the men level well and ram down their cartridges, as a slow well-directed fire is far preferable to an hasty irregular straggling one.” 63 Most training was a preparation for battle, 64 although major engagements were less common than smaller-scale clashes. Conway described the petite guerre in Westphalia in 1761, the frequent clashes around outposts that are too often overlooked: “small skirmishes, and almost daily marches and countermarches”. The following year he described such fighting as heavy: “the French fought quite close to the point of bayonet”. In such clashes light troops, such as the British units that drove the French back over the Lahn in 1762, were at a premium.65 Battles were essentially engagements between linear formations of closepacked infantry, with cavalry on the flanks taking part in what were, at least initially, almost separate engagements, although the victorious cavalry, if it could be regrouped, could then be turned against the flank or rear of the opposing infantry. The vulnerability of infantry if attacked from flank or rear by cavalry or infantry was increased by their linear formations and tactics. At the battle of Albuera (1811) in the Peninsular War, John Colborne’s brigade of British infantry suffered 60 per cent casualties when charged on its flank. If attacked from the front, however, unbroken infantry formations could usually resist cavalry successfully. Infantry did not, however, commonly advance against cavalry, and when the British did so against the French at Minden (1759) it was regarded as being particularly impressive. Lord George Sackville, soon to be disgraced for not doing enough as commander of the British cavalry in that battle, wrote: 60

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The ardour of the English battalions and Hanoverian Guards carried them into the midst of the enemy, and though they found themselves raked by the cannon, attacked on their flanks and rear by cavalry, they made so brave, and so glorious a resistance, and so often renewed their attacks, that the enemy soon began to give way, and the whole affair was over in two hours.66 As cannon could not fire indirectly, they could not be placed behind cover, but had to be trained directly on their targets. Guns were usually grouped together, although there was an absence of permanent tactical formations and for most of the eighteenth century the grouping led to small clumps rather than to massive batteries such as that of 55 heavy guns used by Frederick II at the Battle of Burkersdorf (1762). Such batteries became more important in Napoleonic warfare. The greater standardization of artillery pieces led to more regular fire and thus encouraged the development of artillery tactics away from the largely desultory and random preliminary bombardments of the seventeenth century towards more effective exchanges of concentrated and sustained fire. The number of cannon per musketeer increased during the period. Artillery was employed on the battlefield both to silence opposing guns and, more effectively, in order to weaken infantry and cavalry units, aided by the use of grape and canister shot: this was a small bag or tin with small balls inside which scattered as a result of the charge, causing considerable numbers of casualties at short range, particularly among close-packed infantry. Artillery came to play a bigger rôle in most battles than had been the case in the seventeenth century. Sackville wrote of the allied left at the battle of Minden in 1759, “The destruction our cannon made on that side was prodigious, and kept the enemy in such respect, that the battalions had no recourse to their small arms.” Granby reported from Westphalia in 1762, on: an affair which lasted from five in the morning till dark night without inter mission. It was an attack upon my advanced post which I supported with my whole reserve; the cannonade on both sides was as severe as ever was known. It began at five continued till dark night with the utmost fury…our artillery consisted of 18 heavy 12, 8 heavy 6, 2 light 12 pounders, and 8 or 9 howitzers, the enemy’s artillery and ours were very equally matched…our loss in killed and wounded…near eight hundred.67 The same year, Francis Browne attributed the collapse of Spanish morale in Havana to British artillery: 61

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our new batteries against the town being perfected, (which consisted of forty four pieces of cannon) we all at once, by a signal, opened them and did prodigious execution. Our artillery was so well served and the fire so excessively heavy and incessant…that the Spaniards could not possibly stand to their guns.68 Greater effectiveness led to a heavier stress on the positioning of artillery on the battlefield and on the movement of cannon during engagements.69 Trained as a gunner, Napoleon greatly increased the number of cannon in the French army and used batteries of up to a hundred guns. He created an operational Artillery Reserve and employed massed batteries at Jena (1806) and Wagram (1809) to defend sectors of the front. At Friedland (1807) 30 French cannon were ordered up to the front against the Russian infantry, finally engaging them at only 60 paces, with devastating consequences. At Eylau the same year, massed Russian cannon decimated the advance of the French VII Corps. The artillery improved as a result of better gun-founding techniques, and by the use of screw-elevation, introduced in the Prussian army in 1747 and by the Austrians a year later. Nevertheless, the burning of powder produced a considerable amount of smoke and, after the first shots, battlefield visibility was limited, which for the infantry put a premium on the fire discipline required to delay shooting until at close range. Cannon lacked recoil absorption mechanisms and therefore had to be resited and aimed anew after each shot. It was very difficult to time the fuses on howitzer shells so that they exploded at the intended moment, and after the initial exchanges it was difficult to aim clearly. Cannon were also affected by the weather. Because of summer rain, the cannon could not fire at the battle of Katzbach (in August 1813), while in the battle of Dresden the following day the effectiveness of the superior Austrian artillery was lessened because it was bogged down in the mud. For the infantry, the problems created by short-range muskets, which had a low rate of fire and required resighting for each individual shot, were exacerbated by the cumulative impact of poor sights, eccentric bullets, heavy musket droops, recoil, overheating and misfiring in wet weather. As muskets were smooth bore and there was no rifling, or grooves, in the barrel, the speed of the shot was not high and its direction was uncertain. In the eighteenth century the calibre of individual Prussian muskets ranged between 18 and 20.4 millimetres, while their length varied by up to 8 centimetres. Non-standardized manufacture and wide clearances (windage) meant that the ball could roll out if the barrel was pointed towards the ground, while at best the weapon was difficult to aim or to hold steady.70 Balls were themselves 62

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rough cast. The development of iron, instead of wooden, ramrods was believed to increase the rate of musket fire, but they often bent and jammed in the musket, broke or went rusty; and frequent use of the ramrod distorted the barrel into an oval shape. The spherical nature of bullets maximized air resistance. Despite these failings, the densely packed nature of the combatants and the close range ensured that casualties could be substantial. Low muzzle velocity led to dreadful wounds, because with grape and canister shot and muskets, the slower a projectile travels the more damage it does as it bounces off bones and internal organs. If a missile is travelling very fast, it simply passes through, and does harm only if it strikes a vulnerable place. The demise of the pike helped to ensure that for the bulk of the eighteenth century infantry units did not come into hand-to-hand conflict. This aided the retention of unit formation during battles and further ensured a stress on firepower. Poor visibility was one reason why it was difficult to manoeuvre units on the battlefield, especially once they were engaged. Even in clear weather there was a limit to what could be seen with the naked eye or with telescopes. This situation was exacerbated by the general absence of detailed maps and the limitations of topog raphical mapping. With no facilities for aer ial reconnaissance, generals often had very limited knowledge of the terrain and of the position or movements of opposing forces, and many battles revolved around the surprise deployment of units whose movements were masked by hills. As a consequence, the ability to understand the lie of the land and to assess possible military consequences was a very important aspect of generalship. The difficulty of moving units on the battlefield was related to limited communications: bugle calls had only a few uses, and generals were usually reliant on mounted aides-de-camp. In the smoke of the battlefield, it was difficult to use a system of signalling akin to the flags employed by the British navy (and smoke and poor weather at sea meant that even this was not always effective). In addition, on land there was a general absence of subordinate tactical units such as divisions or brigades, and, more seriously, little experience in manoeuvring in the ad hoc units that were created. A major problem with linear tactics was the need for care in keeping units in touch, in order to prevent gaps that could be exploited by opponents. 71 On the march, the infantry was commonly divided into van, main body and rear, and on the battlefield into right and left wings; but, once engaged, it was difficult to retain central directions of the units, and to control their manoeuvres, especially if it was hoped to disengage and adopt a new position. Such moves were possible, as the Americans showed at Brandywine (1777) when Nathanael Greene’s men 63

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were withdrawn from the American centre in order to face Charles, Earl Cornwallis s unexpected flank attack, but there was a great danger that any changes in formation would interrupt fire, create gaps in the line, and thus opportunities for enemy attack, as well as threatening morale. Changes in formation or front and gaps in the line had these effects when British armies faced Scottish Highlanders and Irish forces in the seventeenth century, as at Kilsyth in 1645; at Aughrim (1691) where the Irish Jacobites launched a counter-attack on their left wing when the advancing English regiments became disordered after moving on to marshy ground; and at Prestonpans (1745) when the British were obliged to respond to an unexpected advance by the Highlanders and to change fronts. Tactical continuity in the use of linear infantry formations was not therefore necessarily a sign of rigidity, but can instead be seen as a sensible response to the battlefield conditions in western and central Europe. That this did not lead, however, to an unchanging “system” was demonstrated forcefully by Frederick II of Prussia. As crown prince, Frederick had criticized his father’s neutrality in the War of the Polish Succession (1733– 5), fearing that inactivity in ever-competitive international relations would lead to Prussia losing ground to her neighbours, Saxony and Russia. Also, in 1737– 8 he had hoped that a military solution would be found to the Jülich—Berg inheritance dispute in which Prussia was involved. His chance of glory was to come in 1740, when his accession was followed by the death of the ruler of Austria, the Emperor Charles VI, and the consequent opening up of the succession to the Habsburg dominions as various rulers refused to accept the attempt to pass the entire inheritance on to Charles’ elder daughter, Maria Theresa. Frederick’s military reputation was founded on his invasion of the Habsburg province of Silesia (modern south-west Poland) and his subsequent success in retaining it during the Silesian Wars (1740–2, 1744–5), and during the Seven Years’ War (1756–63), which was in many respects the Third Silesian War, when he had to defend himself against Austria, France, Russia and Sweden. Frederick’s successes have been attributed in part to his tactical innovations, and in particular to his use of the oblique order as a variation upon the customary linear tactics of the age. He devised a series of methods for strengthening one end of his line and attacking with it, while minimizing the exposure of the weaker end. This tactic depended on the speedy execution of complex manoeuvres for which well-drilled and well-disciplined troops were essential. This tactic of concentrating Prussian strength against a portion of the opposing line and then exploiting the situation was used to great effect at Leuthen (1757), where the Austrians were defeated. The oblique order was not without precedents. Elements of the Highland charge, especially the “cluster” 64

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or “wedge” designed to hit at a particular point in the enemy’s line, prefigured Frederick’s use of the oblique order of attack. It has also been suggested that the practice in the War of the Spanish Succession of strengthening a wing of an army which was designed to envelop that of the enemy, as at Blenheim, Ramillies and Turin, was an important precedent; while the idea of the oblique battle order was found in both classical (Vegetius) and modern (Montecuccoli, Folard, Feuquières) military theoreticians.72 The importance of Prussian tactical innovations can be placed in perspective by considering other factors that helped to account for Frederick’s earlier success. In 1740 Austria was exhausted, her army in need of regeneration after her failure in the Turkish war (1737–9). During the First and Second Silesian Wars Austria had had to confront a number of other powers, including Bavaria, France and Spain, but Frederick had no other enemy except, eventually, weak Saxony. Austria’s principal allies, Britain and Russia, refused to help her against Prussia, and the British pressed her repeatedly to direct her attentions against France. Furthermore, the Austro-Prussian campaigns were not easy triumphs. Surprise helped Frederick in his invasion of Silesia, but in the first battle, Mollwitz (10 April 1741), the Prussian cavalry was defeated and Frederick fled the battlefield, the victory coming only as a result of a hard-fought infantry action. Battle casualties were higher on the Prussian side. This was repeated in the other major battle of the first war, Chotusitz (17 May 1742), a Prussian victory that was far from decisive and due more to discipline than to tactics: the disciplined Prussian infantry forced the Austrians to withdraw: in neither battle did Frederick employ the oblique order. The use of the oblique order produced more dramatic victories. It was described by Colonel Horace St. Paul, an Englishman who was aide-de-camp to the Austrian Marshal Daun: “at first he [Frederick] only attacks the leading troops of the wing he is assaulting, and because he attacks them in such force he is certain of driving them back, irrespective of their bravery…he thus tries to take them in detail”. St. Paul noted that Frederick had used these tactics at Leuthen, but he argued that the king was foolish thus to repeat himself, “as he always launches his attack against one of the two wings of the army he attacks, it is necessary simply to plan a suitable response”.73 Indeed, Frederick’s success in avoiding decisive defeat at the hands of his substantially stronger opponents during the Seven Years’ War can distract attention from the extent to which they were able to innovate in order to respond to Prussian tactics: once used, the oblique attack became familiar, while heavy Prussian casualties in the gruelling campaign of 1757 ensured that many Prussian troops were only hastily trained and therefore little-suited to execute complicated tactical methods. The Austrian use of dispersed columns helped to bring success against Prussia in 1758–9, while the Russians were victorious at Gross-Jägersdorf 65

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(1757) and Paltzig (1759), displayed great fighting power at the indecisive battle of Zorndorf (1758), and won a victory in co-operation with the Austrians at Kunersdorf (1759). The oblique order attack posed problems of its own; not least, as at Zorndorf, the difficulty of controlling troops once combat had begun, but, more significantly, the trajectory of Frederick’s military success is a reminder of the essential characteristic of European tactics, certainly in western and central Europe in 1660–1778, namely the difficulty of creating and sustaining a tactical window of opportunity. Armies were not identical in weaponry, training or balance between component arms, but they were very similar, and in that context it was possible to match the innovations of rival powers. This situation was to be challenged during the Revolutionary and Napoleonic period, the tactics of which are considered in Chapter 7. A basic similarity also raises the question of the potential for military decisiveness, an essential parameter of war goals and strategic choice.

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Chapter Three Decisiveness

The standard view Eighteenth-century military capabilities and warfare are generally seen as being limited. David Chandler argued that there was “a ‘crisis of strategy’ in the late seventeenth and for much of the eighteenth centuries…these wars were undoubtedly ‘limited’ in a very real sense—namely in the restricted ability of armed forces to carry out the grand strategic or political aims ordered by their rulers and governments. Schemes of vast manoeuvre and rapid decision were beyond their scope. Campaigns and even wars were therefore largely controlled by logistical factors”. More recently, the most lengthy narrative treatment of the subject, that by Russell Weigley, concludes, “as a positive instrument of policy, as a weapon with which to win positive gains for the national interest at a cost not disproportionate to the gains, war in the age of battles was consistently a disappointment and a failure.” Bernhard Kroener has written of military operations degenerating into operettas.1 Weigley, however, offers a variation to the orthodoxy, by extending it to include the Napoleonic period: “Year after year, in seemingly climactic battle after battle, Napoleon pushed his enemies down—but they refused to stay down. Altogether, then, the Napoleonic Wars resembled the Thirty Years’War in their prolonged indecision”.2 This variation is interesting, because the emphasis on the indecisiveness of ancien régime warfare is commonly matched by a stress on the greater decisiveness and indeed determination of its Revolutionary and Napoleonic successors. Scholars keen to stress the rôle of change generally do so by emphasizing the stability and conservatism of earlier practices. Thus a concentration on change in the post-Napoleonic period will follow Weigley, while the customary emphasis on the new warfare of the 1790s, the “citizenry under arms” of the French 67

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Revolution, will generally adopt a negative, not to say pejorative, approach towards ancien régime warfare. The ability of Revolutionary and Napoleonic France to defeat its enemies, most obviously Prussia in 1806, encourages this analysis. Thus, whatever the focus on change, eighteenth-century warfare is commonly viewed as being limited and ineffective. B.K. Király argued that “Wars waged by these armies had to be, and were, limited in goals, scope, and final effects. These wars were, in fact, the only kind compatible with the balance of power, the prevailing system of international relations”, while Charles Ingrao wrote that “in its limited military operations and diplomatic objectives, the War of the Polish Succession is the archetypal Eighteenth-century conflict”.3

Problems of definition This approach can be queried; indeed it has to be in order to understand both the warfare of the period and its rôle in international relations. It is at the outset necessary to note the dangers of present-mindedness. Modern concepts of decisiveness owe much to the achievement of unconditional victory in the Second World War, but it is necessary to understand the eighteenth century in its own terms. All too often the present-minded approach of subsequent historians has affected the interpretation of eighteenth-century warfare. Thus the long, and ultimately rather self-defeating, debate on Frederick II’s strategy centring on the question of whether Frederick survived the Seven Years’ War by waging decisive war, or a war of attrition—annihilation or attrition—in part reflected the German preoccupation with their defeat in the First World War, although the debate had begun before 1914.4 Aside from the dangers of present-mindedness, it is also clear that the concept of decisiveness can be handled in a number of different ways. The most relevant distinctions are between tactical and strategic considerations, and between the defensive and the offensive. A decisive battle in a tactical sense can achieve a defensive aim. In the Seven Years’ War Frederick II sought to repel his opponents’ advances and induce them to consider peace by such methods.5 There is a contrast between such an engagement and a tactically offensive battle fought as part of a strategic offensive. In addition, victory could be so hard-won that the strategic goals of the defeated side were obtained, as at Steenkirk in 1692: “although the outcome of this bitter struggle is normally represented as a defeat (forWilliam III withdrew from the field) it really amounts to a strategic victory, for he gave the French such a mauling” that they abandoned plans for attacking Liège.6 A successful defensive battle could lead to a strategic offensive. Thus, Peter the Great’s victory over Charles XII of 68

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Sweden at Poltava (1709) was part of a defensive Russian strategy, and Frederick II was wont to quote it as an example of the danger of strategic over-extension on the part of Charles, but the battle was followed by the Russian conquest of Sweden’s eastern Baltic territories. In addition, the avoidance of battle, an apparently “indecisive” strategy, could be urged while preparations were made for a later successful encounter. Field-Marshal Wade, British commander in the Low Countries in 1744, reported that the opposing French army was at least twice the size, adding, “if we could have an opportunity of engaging them with an equal front, I think we ought not to decline the combat. But to attack them at disadvantage, would be rash, since the loss of a battle would be attended with the loss of the country”. He wrote ten days later that the prospect of reinforcements would, he hoped, induce us to be careful to avoid as much as possible, coming to a general action, but to keep upon the defensive, until the arrival of those succours …which, if they come in time, will not only put us on an equality with the enemy as to our foot, but enable us to follow them into those open parts of the country, where our horse may be of more service to us, than they can be in this inclosed country.7 Furthermore, it is far from clear that discussion of decisiveness should centre on victory in battle. “Decisive” can have a different meaning at sea: one of “command of the seas”. If the objective of a war was to win territory that could be retained at a subsequent peace treaty, then successful sieges can be seen as more “decisive” to that end. At an operational level, control over territory that could be used as a base for campaigning and/or a source of enforced “contributions” of supplies, was necessary in order to wage war successfully. This is a point neglected in criticism of ancien régime “positional warfare” and the accompanying emphasis on covering territory. In 1754 the Presidency of the British base at Fort George in India issued instructions that if war broke out with France “The principal points in view are, the engaging their main army, the covering the Nawab’s districts [the Nawab of the Carnatic, Britain’s ally], by which a revenue will arise to him, and the distressing that of the enemy, which may carry with it a double advantage of diminishing theirs, and adding to his support.” The following year, plans were drawn up on the basis of reducing the area from which the French received contributions. Control of territory was again an issue during the Second Mysore War (1780–4). The British under Sir Eyre Coote defeated the forces of Haidar Ali in 1781 at the battles of Porto Novo, Pollilur and Sholingurh, but were unable to drive them back and thus suffered from the depredations of the Mysore cavalry in the regions that 69

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supported Britain, especially the Carnatic. Battles were not therefore, always decisive in their consequences. Lord Macartney, Governor of Madras, wrote in 1781 about “an invader whom repeated victories over him do not enable us to expel”. Macartney also pointed out the possibility of continual small-scale action leading to a decisive outcome: It was very possible that our main army, so extremely disproportionate in numbers to the enemy, and almost without cavalry, should have suffered a check; or, what would have proved as ruinous, might have continued to be harassed, as had been the case for several months, and might have melted by degrees without an opportunity of coming to action.8 Ultimately, however, the problem is cultural. It is difficult for many to accept that warfare was “for real” in a world in which artifice, convention and style played such a major rôle; and this is particularly the case because it has been contrasted so often with the apparently more vital, clear-cut and successful warfare of the “Age of Revolution”, more particularly the forces and ideologies of the American and French Revolutions. In artistic terms, the formality of linear formations and conventions of warfare can be seen as “baroque” warfare, and essentially limited goals and methods behind the exuberant show as the “rococo”, both being displaced in the late eighteenth century by “neo-classical” rigour and “Romantic” enthusiasm; in cultural terms there is a tendency to underrate the determination and ability of aristocratic societies. Such views are rarely expressed clearly, but are no less influential for that. They are misleading, however, in that they mistake style for substance. Furthermore, in adopting a teleological approach—one to which military history with its stress on technological development is all too liable—it is too easy to adopt a critical attitude towards eighteenth-century warfare,9 wrongly viewing it as being inflexible, conservative, limited, inconsequential and thus indecisive in every sense. This is inaccurate. Some contemporary observers did comment on the limited nature of warfare. Thus, during the War of the Polish Succession, a letter from Oppenheim of 19 August 1735 “from the banks of the Rhine, and in sight of two formidable armies”, noted “I write it with as much tranquillity as you will read it in your garden, or by the side of the Thames. This campaign has hitherto been as harmless as a campaign can be.”10 There was indeed no battle in the Rhineland during the war, although there were several in Italy. It was particularly common to complain about the lack of action on the part of allies, Philip Yorke MP finding the Austrians inadequate in 1747 during the War of the Austrian Succession: “they now send a tolerable corps into the field and act with it as the mercenary leaders of bands in Italy of whom Machiavel speaks used to do; i.e. 70

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They save their men, that they may sell them to us another year”. 11 The inconsequential, indeed sometimes tedious, nature of much warfare also led to comment. Captain James Horsbrugh noted in his diary on 22 January 1782 about the Spanish siege of Gibraltar, “Through the day there was little firing on either side, but after nightfall the enemy being distinctly heard at work much about the same place as the preceding night, we on that account increased our fire which the Enemy returned in salvos from six to ten guns at a time, and followed this mode till after midnight, but without doing us any injury.”12 Rulers, ministers and generals did not wish to lose trained troops on campaign or in conflict. Thus in 1711 John, 2nd Duke of Argyll, Commanderin-Chief of the British forces in Spain during the War of the Spanish Succession, wrote to Major-General Thomas Whetham: I am sure if any misfortune should happen that it would be impossible for to get our troops recruited against next year and later: if we are not successful in a general attempt, this late great advantage is thrown away and we are undone and should we succeed unless the affair chances to be a battle of Ramillies or Blenheim in short that they are entirely routed I do not know if it will prove greatly to our advantage, if the enemy gives such an opportunity as that you may fall upon them with an indisputable advantage, and will be well to do it, but my humble thoughts are to shun unnecessary risks.13 Thirty-seven years later, the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary of State for the Southern Department and effectively British Foreign Minister, wrote in his own hand to the Duke of Cumberland, Br itish Captain-General and commander in the Low Countries: I have by the King’s order given a hint of the necessary attention to preserve your army. I am sure your Royal Highness will not on any account or from any expectation run a risk, which if it should happen must prove the ruin of the whole, for upon the preservation of your Royal Highness’ army, weak as it is, depends the safety of this country, the Republic of Holland, and indeed, the whole alliance.14 Other reasons for the avoidance of decisive results are cited. A lack of determination has been implied from the conventions of the period. In 1781 Frederick II recorded a conversation with an Austrian envoy who had taken part 71

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in the recent War of the Bavarian Succession (1778–9): “he spoke of the last war as not being really a war, and I replied that it should be regarded as a card-game between two friends”.15 It is also possible to focus on tactical and strategic factors that lessened the chance of victory. The first are readily apparent in naval warfare. The indecisiveness of many naval battles was commented on and clearly owed much to the emphasis on the importance of numbers of ships in a line-of-battle order: this discouraged the numerically inferior navy from engaging. If the two navies were fairly evenly matched, it was difficult to obtain a decisive result, because the line-ahead formations that the mounting of guns on the broadside of warships produced, were powerful defensive positions. The development of lineahead tactics has recently been explained as a consequence of a new set of professional values that put a premium on discipline and operational control, rather than risk.16 Because the overwhelming majority of the cannon on ships of the line fired from the vessels’ sides and not forward, warships could not simultaneously advance on and fire at an opponent.17 Inadequate signalling, inaccurate gunnery and cumbersome ships also played a rôle. In 1778, Captain John Jervis wrote to the Secretary of the Admiralty, “I have often told you, that two fleets of equal force never can produce decisive events, unless they are equally determined to fight it out; or the Commander-in-Chief of one of them misconducts his line.” In addition, it was difficult to conduct successful amphibious operations as a long series of failures, such as the British attempt on Cadiz in 1800, demonstrated. 18 However, advances were made: the British introduced special landing craft in 1758 and formed a transport pool that aided the preparation of such operations. Strategic problems were also apparent on land, not least the absence of any significant technological, organizational or tactical gap between the major powers, and the heavily fortified nature of many strategic positions and regions, particularly the Low Countries and northern Italy. In 1744 William Horsley observed that: considering the numbers of people now in Europe, the multitude of garrisoned and well fortified towns, and the excellency, to which the art of war is arrived, and equally understood by all nations, the making wise and extensive conquests now-a-days seems to exist only in the theoretic imaginations of cabinet projectors.19 Armies lacked the means to paralyse their opponents’ mobility and force a battle.20 In his Essai général de tactique (1772), Jacques Comte de Guibert, a French writer who was hostile to what he saw as current military practice, pressed for a citizenry under arms waging war to the death and, in more specific terms, more mobile and aggressive armies. Seven years later he 72

THE QUEST FOR VICTORY

published in his Défense du système de guerre moderne a sustained critique of what he saw as the defensive nature of contemporary European warfare.21

The quest for victory Yet it is also possible to emphasize the determination of rulers, ministers, generals and admirals to achieve victory and their ability to do so, an ability that owed much to a generally underrated high level of mobility.22 There were decisive battles, campaigns and wars. Poltava (1709) was one of the most decisive battles of the century. It led to the collapse of Swedish hopes to exploit Ukrainian disaffection in order to weaken Russia fatally, and the end of Ukrainian autonomy, and this was followed by the overrunning of Sweden’s eastern Baltic provinces, and by Peter the Great’s occupation of Poland.23 In the War of the Spanish Succession, there were apparently indecisive battles such as Luzzara (1702), although Luzzara could be considered “decisive” because the Austrian commander, Prince Eugene, although greatly outnumbered in Italy in 1702 by Franco-Spanish forces, fought Marshal Vendôme to a draw: This was the last battle there that Eugene ‘was forced to fight against unfavourable odds. There were also more obviously decisive battles: the AngloDutch-Austrian victory at Blenheim (1704) drove the French from Germany; the Austro-Savoyard victory at Turin (1706) drove them from Italy; and the Anglo-Dutch-Austrian victories at Ramillies (1706) and Oudenaarde (1708) removed them from the Low Countries. Ramillies was followed by the capture of Antwerp, Bruges, Brussels, Dendermonde and Ostend. French victories at Almanza (1707) and Brihuega (1710) won Spain for the Bourbon dynasty. Almanza was followed by the rapid overrunning of Valencia.24 In the War of the Polish Succession (1733–5), the Spanish victory at Bitonto (1734) drove the Austrians from southern Italy, a situation they were never to reverse. In the War of the Austrian Succession (1740–8), Mollwitz (1741) won Silesia for Frederick II, a gain consolidated by Hohenfriedberg (1745). Fontenoy (1745), Roucoux (1746) and Lawfeldt (1747) helped to win the Austrian Netherlands for the French, and Piacenza (1746) prevented the Bourbons from conquering northern Italy. Contemporaries were convinced that these campaigns were being conducted with determination. Philip Yorke wrote of the French after the fall of Ostend in 1745: “I think their progress in the Netherlands this campaign has been greater than any of old Lewis’s [Louis XIV] except that of 1672”. Two years later, Thomas Orby Hunter, Deputy Paymaster of the British Forces in Flanders, noted of the French storming of Bergen-op-Zoom, “It has certainly been carried on with great 73

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fury by the enemy, without regard to the loss of men and every other expence”.26 French success in sieges (helped by the often weak resistance of Dutch garrisons), and superior numbers and greater unity of command, were more important in the conquest of the Austrian Netherlands and Dutch Flanders than the hard-won victories of Roucoux and Lawfeldt, neither of which was followed up very energetically. Yet decisive campaigns are not the same as decisive conflicts, and Parker has argued that “wars still eternalized themselves…the Great Northern War endured from 1700 to 1721 in spite of Poltava; the War of the Spanish Succession continued …in spite of Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenaarde and Malplaquet”.27

Frederick II and decisiveness Both the writings and practice of Frederick II and most of his contemporaries indicate that they held that battle could indeed be decisive—in fact too decisive for some of them some of the time. For Frederick the decisive battle was a necessity, made possible by the superior tactical mobility of his forces28 and dictated by his need for “short and lively wars”, and confirmed for us by the close attention he paid to perfecting his battle tactics. A few episodes deserve particular attention in this context. The campaign towards the end of 1745 compelled Austria to renounce Silesia once again, and knocked Saxony out of the war. The Prague-Kolin campaign of the early summer of 1757, if successful, might have led to territorial gains in northern Bohemia, condemned Austria to a position of permanent military inferiority, and probably doomed the whole Theresian experiment. In this context, the Austrian victory at Kolin was “decisive” in the reverse direction, truly “The Birthday of the Monarchy”. The major Prussian victory at Leuthen (1757) paralysed numerous Austrian initiatives later in the war, while the little battles of 1762 turned out to be decisive in the diplomatic and psychological setting of the time: the Prussian victories at Burkersdorf and Reichenbach broke the will of the Austrian commander, Field Marshal Leopold Daun, to continue the contest for Silesia, and that at Freiberg lost southern Saxony (except for Dresden) and put the Austrians at an even greater disadvantage at the negotiating table. In the War of the Bavarian Succession, Frederick was seeking a decisive victory, but failed on account of his age, the decline of his army, and the Austrian counter-moves. It later served his purpose to represent what had happened as a “cabinet war”, and this is the misleading version that has gone down to posterity. Contemporary commentators were in little doubt about the determination with which Frederick sought victory. Horace St. Paul was in Dresden when the Prussians besieged and attempted to storm it in July 1760. He recorded of the second unsuccessful attempt: “Il y a poussé ses troupes avec une très grande 74

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vivacité, et elles ont agi avec tout le courage imaginable, qu’on pourroit attribuera en parti à l’ivresse dans laquelle on a remarqué qu’elles etoient generalement.” The Prussian bombardment of the city did great damage and the heat from the burning buildings made service on the ramparts very unpleasant. Dresden was invested on 13 July and the siege raised on 30 July. During that period, the garrison of 14,943 men and 193 pieces of artillery, fired 26,266 cannon shot, including 1,402 of grapeshot, 326 bombes, 1,110 grenades of seven or ten pounds, 473 grenades by hand, 370,284 gunshots and 16,400 gunshots charged with grapeshot. Two years earlier, at Hochkirch, Daun used multiple columns to great effect against Frederick and showed that the armies of the period were not rendered inflexible by the notion of linear tactics. St. Paul recorded of the dispositions for attack: Tout le front du camp ennemi étant entierement couvert par un vallon et le village…il est par conséquent impossible d’y former une attaque formelle… A l’attaque du village de Hochkirch il y a principalement à observer après que les trois colonnes qui y marchent à cet effet, auront emporté les redoutes, le village, et force et suivi l’ennemi… Comme cette attaque se doit envisager de même qu’un assaut, et que faute des hauteurs l’on ne sauroit la proteger par les gros canons, ainsi l’avantgarde ne se servira après la première décharge que du sabre a la main, et de la bayonette au bout du fusil.30 It is worth asking why Frederick’s great victories were not more decisive: he restricted himself to gaining control of the battlefield.31 A number of reasons can be suggested. In the Seven Years’ War Frederick could not spare the time for a lengthy pursuit of a single enemy, given the number of other enemies who threatened him. His tightly disciplined troops could not be unleashed in a headlong pursuit without the danger of the units becoming less coherent, or even disintegrating because of desertion as soon as they were out of sight of their superiors. The unitary armies of the time, not yet organized in divisions or corps, were clumsy instruments, and there were few commanders of detached ar mies or forces who were psychologically prepared for independent decision-making. In addition, Frederick usually lost more men than his enemies, even in the battles he won; and the Prussians were incompetent in siegework, and repeatedly lost momentum by getting stuck in front of fortresses and fortress-cities: the most important episode of the kind was when Frederick was unable to consolidate the victory of Prague by capturing the city and destroying Charles of Lorraine s army. Siege warfare continued to be time-consuming and to inhibit the rapid movement of armies and decisive campaigns. Government resources and developments in fortification techniques combined to produce formidable 75

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defensive positions. The Austrian fortress of Olmütz, besieged unsuccessfully by Frederick II, who mishandled the operation in 1758, was one such: Quand les assiegeans n’attaqueroient que trois angles saillants du chemin couvert, ils auroient toujours cinq pieces ou ouvrages à prendre dans leur front d’attaque, avant de s’attacher au corps de la place, savoir deux lunettes ou places d’armes retranchées, une demie lune, un bastion detaché, et une contre-garde.32 Yet other fortresses fell rapidly, the Prussians, for example, losing Pirna that September after it had been bombarded for two days.33 Following up a victory really effectively was usually as important as winning it, and sometimes as difficult or more difficult to achieve. It was possibly the more energetic following up of victories once won which gave much Revolutionary and Napoleonic campaigning an appearance of greater determination and decisiveness, but it was possible for the generals of 1792–1815 to do so because they had larger armies. Determination and willpower as much as purely military aspects were, as is so often the case, crucially important to decisiveness, a theme stressed in Ian Gentles’ recent study of the New Model Army (Oxford, 1992). Equally, such political will could prevent or limit the consequences of “decisive” engagements. Thus, for example, Frederick II really should have been beaten after Kolin and especially after Kunersdorf (1759), but neither battle knocked Prussia out of the Seven Years’ War. Equally, neither did Leuthen or even Rossbach (1757) lead to the abandonment of the struggle by Frederick’s enemies. Between major powers with access to equal resources, campaigns and wars were often decided by attrition, political will and coalition politics, rather than by decisive battles. That did not imply that contemporaries lacked the notion of decisive battles and did not seek them. Thus, in May 1758, St. Paul wrote in his campaign journal, “Si nous sommes dans le cas de donner une bataille, elle sera si decisive que le sort de la Bôheme et de la Moravie dépend du succés qu’elle aura”. If generals such as Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick decided not to mount some attacks because their opponents were “so strongly posted”, they were ready to attack on other occasions.34

Decisive conflicts There were, of course, decisive wars but it can be argued that they were between poorly matched powers. Thus, the Russo-Swedish war of 1741–3 was decided by the vigour of the Russian General Lacy, and his far larger 76

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army. Finland, where the fighting took place, was vulnerable to Russian attack. The Swedish fortress of Willmanstrand was stormed in 1741 and the following year the Swedes, outmanoeuvred and trapped in Helsingfors (Helsinki), capitulated. Had the Russians felt obliged to invade Sweden, however, they might have found the military challenge far more difficult. It was fortunate for Russia that in the three Russo-Swedish wars in the eighteenth century it was not necessary to invade, still less to conquer, the Swedish homeland. Other instances of decisive conflicts can be found in the defeat of rebellions, such as the Rakoczi rising in Hungary in 1703–11;35 the Jacobite rebellions in Britain in 1715–16 and 1745–6;36 the Pugachev serf rising in Russia in 1773– 4; and the Irish rebellion of 1798. 37 These led to pitched battles, such as Culloden (1746) andTatischchevo (1774), but they were fought between armies that were armed and trained very differently, and if the concentrated firepower of the better-trained regulars could be brought to bear they were likely to prevail. The vanquished at Culloden “based their warfare on a fundamental combination of speed, mobility and primal shock power, rejecting the tenets of modern, scientific technology—and logistics-orientated warfare embraced by most other European nation-states”. This Gaelic warfare has been seen as distinctive,38 but on a Europe-wide perspective this was not so. Instead, it can be argued that the combination of speed, mobility and shock power also characterized other “military systems” that differed from the dominant European model with its concentration on infantry firepower and deployment in thin linear formations supported by artillery in order to maximize firepower. It is too easy with hindsight to write off a military system as anachronistic. In eastern Europe there was a much greater emphasis on speed, mobility and shock power, and this was true not only of the Turks and, in particular, their Tatar allies, but also of forces that stressed the tactical and strategic rôle of cavalry: Cossacks, Hungarians and Poles. In the eighteenth century the contrast between these forces and other European armies increased because the percentage of cavalry in the latter decreased and their battlefield rôle became in general less important, although there were important exceptions, as, for example, with the Prussians at Rossbach (1757). Conflict between the two types of army represented an important sphere of decisive warfare, as in the Austro-Turkish wars of 1683– 99 and 1716–18 and the Russo-Turkish wars of 1735–9, 1768–74 and 1787– 92. It was also true of the Polish failure to confront Russian invasions successfully, as for example in 1733; and of the Russian suppression of Cossack independence.

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The global context This confrontation served further as a model for that between European and non-European forces. The latter, of course, were very varied: the spear-carrying tribesmen of the Celebes encountered by the British in the early 1790s were far different from the Javan and Sumatran sultanates with their extensive use of firearms. Nevertheless, in general, European forces relied less on shock power and more on firepower than the non-European armies they confronted. Their lead in this field was threatened by the willingness of the latter to adopt European technology, equipment and, in part, tactics. Thus some Indian rulers deployed flintlock-armed infantry battalions, while artillery pieces were also imitated. At the end of the eighteenth century, the Turks also showed a greater interest in organizing part of the army along European lines and arming themselves with European-style weapons. They also sought, without success, to purchase British warships.39 Decisive warfare by European forces can readily be seen in the extraEuropean dimension, in large part because the gap in technological, tactical and organizational capabilities and methods was greater than in Europe, with the exceptions already noted. Thus victories at Plassey (1757), Patna (1764) and Buxar (1764) over vastly greater forces led to British control of Bengal, the basis of its subsequent domination of southern Asia. The British victory overTipu Sultan of Mysore in the Fourth Mysore War of 1799, culminating with the successful storming of Seringapatam, led to British control of southern India. It would be mistaken, however, to conclude that decisive results could only be obtained in such circumstances. Instead, it is clear that not only victory in particular engagements, but also triumph in war could result from conflict between states using similar techniques. This was true of both European and non-European warfare: in the latter case, technological and tactical advantage did not need to relate to the adoption of European methods. Examples of major Asian victories include the victory of Nadir Shah of Persia over the Turks at Arpatshai (1735) and over the Mogul Emperor of India, Muhammad Shah, at Karnal (1739), the Afghan defeat of the Marathas at Panipat (1761) and the Egypt-Palestine defeat of Turkish forces at Darayya (1771).40

Naval warfare Decisiveness in conflict among European states was most clearly demonstrated in naval conflict. There were indecisive engagements or failures to engage fully: 78

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the Anglo-French battles of Bantry Bay (1689), Malaga (1704) and Toulon (1744), Admiral Edward Boscawen’s failure to intercept the French fleet sailing to Canada (1755), Admiral John Byng’s failure offMinorca (1756), and the Anglo-French battles of Ushant (1778) and the Virginia Capes (1781). It would be possible to produce an account that emphasized the factors inhibiting the successful use of naval power: this would include the technological limitations of wind-dependent wooden ships, the manpower and supply problems posed by the need for substantial crews, the sheer scale of naval battles and the attendant signalling and communication problems, the tactical difficulties of forcing engagements, and the strategic problems of maintaining all-weather blockades. The expense of a fleet and the financial and administrative burdens that naval warfare posed41 could all be emphasized. Thus a naval corollary could be found for the emphasis on the logistic42 and other limitations of European land warfare. Yet there were decisive naval victories. These were obtained not only when there was a technological gap, most obviously the Russian victory over the Turks at Chesmé (1770) and, to a lesser extent, the Russian victories over the Turks in the Black Sea: near Ochakov in 1788 and nearTendra in 1790, but also between technologically more evenly matched forces. For example, the French over the British at Beachy Head (1690), although the impact of this was lessened because it was not followed up; the British over the French at Barfleur (1692), the two battles of Cape Finisterre (1747), Lagos and Quiberon Bay (1759) and the Saints (1782); the Danes over the Swedes off Kolberg (1715); the British over the Spaniards off Cape Passaro in 1718; and the Swedish galley fleet over the Russians at Svensksund (1790). Furthermore, as with battles on land, the nature of decisiveness is open to discussion. It is necessary not to take too Mahanian a view of naval warfare, which interprets victory at sea in terms of ships captured or fleets smashed in battle. This is an Anglo-American perspective not necessarily shared by other seafaring nations, and is in any case possibly less obvious today. A recent discussion of Sir Robert Calder’s failure to resume action against the FrancoSpanish fleet in 1805 concludes by contrasting the emphasis on aggressive spirit in the standards of the age, and a more modern preference for a “carefully controlled reaction”.43 The indecisiveness of naval battles is largely a matter of perspective. The Dutch aimed during the Third Anglo-Dutch War of 1672–4 to keep their fleet “in being” and thus inhibit the English from amphibious attacks. Thus defensive actions that achieved this aim, such as the battles of Schoonevelt (1673) andTexel (1673), were decisive from the Dutch point of view. For the British, Admiral Byng s failure to defeat the French off Minorca in 1756 was an indecisive battle: for the French their repulse of Byng’s attack, which led to the capture of Minorca, was a victory. Similarly with Admiral 79

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Thomas Graves’ failure to defeat the French off the Virginia Capes in 1781: an indecisive battle for the British, but, since it led to the thwarting of the British attempt to relieve Cornwallis’s encircled army, a victory for the French. Conversely, the battle of Malaga (1704) ended the French attempt to prevent the English establishing themselves at Gibraltar. Although no ships were sunk in the battle, casualties were heavy on both sides and the French were also deterred by running low on ammunition. France and Spain preferred to employ their fleets for specific strategic missions, as in the plans to invade Britain in 1744 and 1779, and Jamaica in 1782, rather than searching for tactical victory in battle. It was not possible to “control” the oceans—they were too vast, and naval technology, in the absence of wireless, steam-power and aerial reconnaissance, was too primitive—but it did become more feasible in this period to “control” smaller sea areas. An example of this was the British use of the blockade against Brest: this became more effective as revictualling at sea was developed. In addition, the British victories in 1692, 1718, 1747 and 1759 were strategically decisive: Cape Passaro wrecked Spanish naval power in the Mediterranean and thus the practicality of Spanish plans for Italian conquests.44 The other battles ended the danger of French invasion of Britain and, in the last case, ensured that Britain was able to prevail in the colonial and maritime struggle with France. Spain’s subsequent entry into the war on the French side did not redress the naval situation, and in 1762 British forces campaigned around the globe. They helped the Portuguese resist a Bourbon invasion, fought the French in Westphalia, captured Martinique from the French, and Havana and Manila from the Spaniards. British success was reflected in the terms of the Peace of Paris (1763) and this amply demonstrated the “global reach capabilities” of European power and the potential decisiveness of warfare in the period. Americans and Canadians cannot think of eighteenth-century warfare as indecisive. Britain’s growth as a world power was very much an eighteenthcentury development that was principally due to military success, and the French were very well aware that this was decisive.

Decisiveness in European warfare Decisiveness could also be seen in European land warfare. Parker’s suggestion that the Great Northern and Spanish Succession wars should be seen as indecisive reflects their character as umbrella wars that comprehended a number of different conflicts. The battles and campaigns themselves could be decisive. Victory at Turin (1706) and the conquest of Naples (1707) ended the 80

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struggle for control of Italy with a decisive Austrian triumph. Poltava and the campaign of the following year left Russia in secure control of Estonia and Livonia. Similarly, the Russian overrunning of Poland in 1733–4, the FrancoSardinian conquest of the Milanese in the winter of 1733–4, and the Spanish conquest of Naples (1734) and Sicily (1734–5), were rapid campaigns that set the basic configuration of the peace that ended the War of the Polish Succession.

Decisiveness 1778–92 Military decisiveness can again be seen clearly on the eve of the French Revolution. It is all too easy to concentrate on the inconclusive War of the Bavarian Succession (1778–9). The Austrian Field Marshal Lacy was able to use massive concentrations of defensive forces in the North Bohemian hills to thwart Frederick II’s bold plans for the conquest of Bohemia. Defensive strength negated offensive power and thus contributed to indecisiveness. The war was a logistical triumph for Austria, though one that exhausted the treasury, helping to produce pressure for peace, and it was a military disaster for Frederick. The Prussian army was ravaged by dysentery and desertion, and unable to gain the advantages of surprise and speed. Major weaknesses in the Prussian army were revealed: the absence of sufficient supplies; demoralized infantry; indisciplined cavalry; poor medical services; and an inadequate artillery train.45 Frederick’s failure can be compared with his problems when he invaded Bohemia in 1744. Yet the War of the Bavar ian Succession indicated not so much the indecisiveness of ancien régime warfare as the defensive strength of the Austrian position. Within a decade of its close, forces were to be assembled across the whole of eastern Europe fighting (Austria, Denmark, Russia, Sweden and Turkey) or preparing to fight (Poland and Prussia) for goals that seemed necessary and/or possible. The Prussians pulled back from invading Bohemia in 1790 and Livonia in 1791 and it is not therefore possible to assess how far a major war pitching Prussia against the alliance of Austria and Russia would have led to a decisive conflict; but it is clear from the fighting that did occur and the war plans that were drawn up, that there was no sense that existing military methods had run their course. Indeed, it has recently been argued that the Russians had benefited from their need to respond to the special problems of warfare with the Turks in 1768–74 and 1787–92 by adopting “some of the same operational and tactical expediencies which the French would put into practice between 1792 and 1815”. The Russians developed credible tactical 81

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offensive formations, compact mobile forces and a logistical system of advanced bases and supply magazines.46 Russian logistical successes pose a serious question-mark against the use of Perjes’ data on grain supplies and bread production to suggest that European campaigns must needs be both slow and largely confined to a small number of agriculturally rich areas. Russian military successes in general indicate the flexibility of ancien régime military organization. The latter theme can also be stressed with reference to mid-century Austrian reforms, to the development of French tactical thinking and artillery after 1763, and to Austrian, British and French interest in light infantry. The development of light infantry from the 1740s onwards was important in developing a capacity for mobility and adaptability.47 Nevertheless, an emphasis on the defeat of ancien régime ar mies by revolutionary forces can suggest that they were in some respect redundant. The British failed to defeat the American revolutionaries; Joseph II of Austria lost control of the Austrian Netherlands (Belgium) in 1789 after his troops were defeated atTurnhout by an irregular force helped by snipers and by women throwing stones from the rooftops; French Revolutionary forces were to overrun much of western Europe; and the Spaniards were to be defeated in South and Central America in a series ofWars of Liberation/Independence. In December 1789 Robert Arbuthnot commented, “I think that sovereigns had better all disband their regular troops, as we now find they are no match for a mob.”48 Such an approach is, however, too simple. First, it is important to note the extent to which “patriot” movements were defeated: the Genevans by Berne, France and Sardinia in 1782; the Dutch by the Prussians in 1787; those in the Austrian Netherlands and the Prince-Bishopric of Liège by the Austrians and Prussians respectively in 1790; the Poles by the Russians in 1794; and the Irish by the British in 1798. The suppression of the anti-revolutionary uprisings in the Vendée and elsewhere in France in the 1790s can also be regarded in this light. In any comparison of successes and failures, it is, of course, necessary to give due weight to issues of scale and distance. Secondly, the revolutionary triumphs already referred to were hard-won and partial. The American revolutionaries were unsuccessful in conquering Canada or holding on to New York and Charleston, both causes of major American defeats, and their eventual success atYorktown owed much to the French.49 Later French successes in the Revolutionary Wars owed much to the greater size of their forces, as atValmy and Jemappes (1792), although at Valmy enthusiasm was also a critical factor: the Duke of Brunswick had no stomach for a fight. French armies were also defeated, as at Neerwinden (1793) and Amberg (1796), so that “overall the French revolutionary armies gained about as many victories as they sustained defeats”. 50 If their British, Dutch and 82

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Spanish opponents in the 1790s did not field powerful armies, the Austrians and Russians were impressive forces.51 The years immediately preceding the outbreak of the French Revolutionary Wars in 1792 therefore provided examples of decisive warfare, both between states and in the suppression of popular movements. The Prussian campaign of 1787 was particularly successful. On 13 September the Prussians invaded and advanced to Nijmegen. The principal Patriot force, 7,000 strong under their Commander-in-Chief, the Rhinegrave of Salm, abandoned Utrecht in panic on the night of 15–16 September. The Prussians entered Utrecht on 16 September, Gorcum, after a short bombardment, on 17 September, Dordrecht on 18 September and Delft on 19 September. The last Patriot stronghold, Amsterdam, held out for longer but it surrendered on 10 October 1787. The dikes had not been breached as in 1672, and it had not proved necessary to storm any cities.52 Unequal struggle as it was, it is easy to appreciate on the basis of the Prussian success in 1787, why it was widely anticipated that Brunswick would have another swift success against the Revolutionary French in 1792. What is clear from considering Prussian activity and plans in 1787–92 is that there was no sense of a “crisis in strategy”, of a military system that was unable to achieve military and political objectives. This is more generally true of the European states in the period and can be seen also in the sole extra-European war waged in the early 1790s, the Third Mysore War, between Britain and Tipu Sultan of Mysore in 1790–2. The war had begun as a result of Tipu’s attack on a British ally and Mysore was far from being a vulnerable state. Indeed, initial British operations in 1790 achieved less than had been hoped. Nevertheless, when Cornwallis took personal charge in January 1791, the situation improved. He had already acted to reform the forces in India,53 and, in doing so, reflected his openness to new ideas. Thus in 1790 he wrote of the sepoy units, British officered and trained Indians: It is highly expedient and indeed absolutely necessary for the public good that the officers who are destined to serve in those corps should come out at an early period of life, and devote themselves entirely to the Indian service; a perfect knowledge of the language, and a minute attention to the customs and religious prejudices of the sepoys being qualifications for that line which cannot be dispensed with…how dangerous a disaffection in our native troops would be to our existence in this country.54 In March 1791 Cornwallis stormed Bangalore, where he captured “upwards of 100 serviceable pieces of ordnance, near fifty of which were brass…and an 83

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immense depot of military stores”, 55 a testimony toTipu’s strength. That December, Sevendroog, a hill fort that had been judged impregnable, was stormed after the artillery had opened a breach, 56 and in February 1792 Seringapatam was successfully besieged andTipu sued for peace. The ability of Britain to fight a war successfully at such a distance, not least at the same time as war was considered with Russia as a result of the Ochakov Crisis of 1791, was a testimony to the range of British power. In contrast, France had not felt able to intervene in Vietnam in 1788 despite treaty commitments to one of the parties in the civil conflict there. Britain’s ability to act across the oceans was to be demonstrated fully during the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars and is the clearest example of the global military decisiveness of eighteenth-century European states.

Conclusions It is necessary to emphasize the extent to which decisiveness, like victory or “total war” or national mobilization, have to be seen not only in an eighteenth-century context,57 but also in a variety of lights. Decisiveness can be understood to relate to conflict with similar or dissimilar forces, and can be considered in a number of different national and chronolog ical perspectives. Exactly how decisive warfare is seen depends on the perspective of the viewer; for example, the War of the Austrian Succession can be seen as decisive from a Prussian perspective, but inconclusive in terms of the AngloFrench struggle. The extent to which most conflicts ended with a negotiated settlement, and therefore that an occupation of territory, could be “decisive” in so far as it influenced the negotiations,58 has to be considered. However, an emphasis on the decisive occupation of territory and one on decisive battles, are not necessarily incompatible, as the former could be a consequence of the latter. In 1781, Sir Eyre Coote, the British Commander-in-Chief in India, explained his opposition to the idea of attacking the Dutch base of Negapatam: every military idea which I have been able to form in the course of forty years service. It is a rule which a soldier ought never to lose sight of—if there is an enemy in the field, anywhere near, and in force, to a fortified town or garrison intended to be attacked, first to beat it, and so effectually as to be himself satisfied that it will not be able to rise again in strength sufficient to molest him whilst carrying on the operations of the siege.59 84

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Conversely, campaigning could lead to major losses of manpower so that, for example, the unsuccessful Prussian invasion of Bohemia in 1744 was “decisive without a battle”.60 In the widest sense, eighteenth-century conflicts do appear inconclusive because they were frequently coalition conflicts and it was impossible for all coalition members to achieve their aims. A few might, but most had to settle for unsatisfactory compromise or a return to the status quo. Furthermore, coalition warfare could inhibit a determination to achieve decisive warfare. Governments did not necessarily wish to make their allies too powerful by weakening r ival powers excessively, as the kaleidoscopic nature of international relations ensured that alliances changed with some frequency Furthermore, the notion of the balance of power encouraged a degree of reluctance about major shifts in power. Thus the death of the Emperor Joseph I in 1711 and his succession by his brother, “Charles III” of Spain (the Emperor Charles VI), made the British government reluctant to fight on to secure a Habsburg Spain and thus a tremendous accretion of power to the Habsburgs. In 1719 the British, with reason, thought their French allies reluctant to defeat Philip V of Spain, Louis XIV’s grandson, who had only gained the throne of Spain thanks to his grandfather’s efforts during the War of the Spanish Succession. That, however, did not mean that the warfare itself was indecisive. Fuenterrabia was captured and the cannon of the Duke of Berwick’s invading army breached the wall of San Sebastian and then bombarded the castle into surrender. The stereotypical view of eighteenth-century “indecisiveness” is due to a failure to put eighteenth-century operations in context, and equally a failure to define “decisive”. There was nothing inherently indecisive about seventeenth- and eighteenth-century strategy and tactics, except perhaps at sea, although even then the intention of naval tactics was to ensure a decisive result. Decisive battles could result on land and sea, as indeed they also did in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic period. Indecision was, if anything, a product of political rather than military factors, especially the inability of states to exploit fully their military potential. The French Revolution did open up new possibilities, and it was these logistical and manpower factors, rather than any significant tactical changes, that explain early French victories. Later French defeats resulted not from France’s opponents adopting her tactics, but rather from their copying French methods of raising larger armies, particularly in the case of Austria and Prussia. Tactics, while modified, remained essentially the same. Corps and divisions were evolutionary developments with roots in the eighteenth century, not products of Revolutionary France. Lastly, it is necessary to emphasize the global context, the ability of European powers to operate 85

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outside Europe, and their success in the eighteenth century, both within and outside Europe, in defeating non-European powers. A history of eighteenth-century European warfare that ignores this wider context is of limited value.

86

Chapter Four Warfare 1660–1721

Military entrepreneurship and absolutism The period 1660–1721 witnessed a series of epic struggles of which the most dramatic were the defeat of the Turks by the Austrians, the triumph of Peter the Great over his Swedish rival Charles XII, and the conflicts between Louis XIV of France and his neighbours, culminating in the War of the Spanish Succession (1701–14) in which Louis’ hopes of dominating western Europe were dashed. The major wars were lengthy struggles: the Russo-Polish war of 1654–67; the Dutch war of 1672–8, a conflict that began with a French attack on the Dutch but that broadened to include most of western Europe; the Nine Years’War, otherwise known as the War of the League of Augsburg, or King William’s War, of 1688–97; and the Great Northern War of 1700–21. During this period the armed forces of the major European states grew appreciably and there were important tactical developments, although it would be mistaken to imply by any periodization that all forces were developing in a uniform and consistent fashion. It would not only be inappropriate to present the period in “progressive” or teleological terms, as if greater ability in pursuing war is clearly a benefit, but also inaccurate, for the period began across most of Europe with an extensive slackening of tension and accordingly with a disbanding of much military strength, not least in England, France and the United Provinces (the Netherlands). The lengthy and bitter struggle between France and Spain that had been continuous since 1628, with formal hostilities continually since 1635, ended with the Peace of the Pyrenees of 1659. Peace between Spain and France’s ally England followed in 1660, while the Treaty of Oliva (1660) ended conflict between Sweden, Poland and Brandenburg, that of Copenhagen (1660) the Dano-Swedish struggle, and the Treaty of Kardis 87

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(1661) marked Sweden’s continued success in preventing Russia from gaining a Baltic coastline. War over control of the Ukraine continued between Russia and Poland until 1667, and it was only in 1668 that Spain conceded independence to Portugal; but the essential agenda of conflict earlier in the century, which can be summarized, but only inaccurately, by reference to the Thirty Years’ War and the mid-seventeenth-century crisis, had been brought to a close. The European states had been left exhausted and indebted, and their armed forces were the focus of expenditure and debt. The burden of organizing and supporting these forces had been spread by means of a reliance on private entrepreneurship: individuals were authorized to raise and supply regiments and warships and were promised repayment. Groups of suppliers known as munitionnaires provided French armies with provisions and ammunition, as France lacked a mechanism for direct procurement by the government. Other states operated in a similar fashion. As the wars continued, the extent of money owed depressed the credibility of the entire military “system”. To modern eyes, such a system of (semi-) “privatized” warfare appears anachronistic and primitive; but in fact it was both a fundamental aspect of a range of governmental activities and a sensible and necessary response to the limitations of state power and capability. Recruiting, supplying and supporting military units were crucial aspects of financial administration, and private individuals and consortia were important in the latter. This was marked in the important case of tax farming: this offered a source of credit, and underlined the symbiotic relationship between governments and certain financial interests. Samuel Oppenheimer was Leopold I’s leading army contractor and banker; Samuel Bernard played a similar rôle for Louis XIV. Tax farming and other aspects of “privatized” government should not be seen as a failure to create a model bureaucratic structure, for such a structure was not feasible. Although the eighteenth century witnessed the coining of the ter m “bureaucracy” by the French economist François de Gour nay, governments were not characterized by an ethos or methods akin to those understood by the term today. Though patronage and clientage, departmental feuds and corruption play a significant rôle in modern governments, they were far more important in this period. Service to the sovereign was not simply discharged by officials. Government was the function and privilege of a large number of individuals and institutions who were guided by their own conventions and ideas. This posed a political problem for central government in the event of non-cooperation, but it also vastly extended its range into the localities as well as in military spheres. The term commonly used to describe the methods and aspirations of most 88

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European monarchical states in the century from 1660 is absolutist. Until recently, such states were generally seen as powerful entities characterized by rulers who dictated policy and dispensed with representative assemblies, central governments that sought to monopolize power, and the growth of centralizing institutions, such as the court, the standing army, and bureaucracy. In practice, however, the power of rulers was limited by resistance to the demands of central government, the often tenuous control of rulers over governments, and constraining attitudes towards the proper scope of monarchical authority. The size of many states, such as France, and the primitive transportation of the day helped ensure that local interests would remain dominant. Thus the most effective way to govern was in co-operation with those who wielded power in the localities, the nobility, and with the institutions that had local authority. Behind the facade of power, rulers sought to persuade the nobility and others to act in the interests of the ruler, a far from novel objective. This provided the context of military activity in the seventeenth century. Rulers turned to individuals to raise and finance units, and these individuals were given command: the proprietary system of regimental organization. They came overwhelmingly from the landed orders, essentially a new form of the socio-political relationship that had prevailed in the Middle Ages. If the direct obligatory relationship between landholding and military service had been broken in most of Europe (although not in Russia), the social reality had changed far less. Even in the Dutch Republic, the least aristocratic of European states, the army was, in effect, controlled by private enterprise, and officered by landowners. Units were owned by their commanders, who were responsible for their recruitment, accommodation, clothing and the issue and purchase of arms, and this remained the case until the French conquest in 1795. The European presence outside Europe rested in large part, particularly in Asia, on private companies, such as the British and Dutch East India Companies, which were effectively major military machines in their own right. This reconsideration of the nature of absolutism offers a perspective on military developments from 1660. Relations between rulers and significant sections of the elite across much of Europe had been sundered by distrust and hostility stemming from the Reformation, but the seventeenth century witnessed a reknitting of the relationship as the religious situation was redefined and aristocratic religious diversity was extirpated or politically marginalized.1 The reconciliation of rulers and elites brought new political stability to many states, including, crucially, France, Austria and, from 1689, England, and this had important military consequences. By setting the decisive changes, in terms of army size, weaponry and organization, in the post-1660 period, rather than the Roberts century, it can be argued that the more stable domestic 89

Europe, 1660

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political circumstances of most states in the period were the cause, and not the consequence, of these changes. The reconciliation of monarchy and nobility was fundamental to the rise in French military strength. Aristocrats sought to win prestige and display influence with the monarch by raising and commanding troops, while stability eased the flow of money and credit. A significant proportion of European military entrepreneurs in the “Roberts century” were non-noble; the per iod after 1660 saw their widespread replacement by the nobility. The extent to which this can also be seen as an attempt by rulers to increase control is unclear. During the Thirty Years’ War the degree to which command and support services were, often necessarily, contracted out had combined expense, random destruction and lack of strategic achievement. In the later seventeenth century there are signs of a greater desire by rulers to rely both on formal controls and on a class having both professional credentials and the social credentials of traditional leadership, and of a greater ability on their part to achieve these goals. This situation was true, for example, of the English navy and the Brandenburg—Prussian army, and it remained the case throughout the eighteenth century. In 1801 Lord Pelham noted of the British response to the threat of French invasion, “Regiments have been raised by persons having real or supposed influence in the countries they resided in; rank has been given as the price of recruits.” Pelham also criticized the consequences of contracting out services, in this case the British horse artillery, which he believed could play a vital rôle in harassing French columns in the event of an invasion: Our ill judged economy in these matters makes us trust to contracts to supply horses which when called for are never fit for service, kept at grass or in straw yards for the sake of a little saving in their food, and unused to the collar, their shoulders soon gall, they will not draw, and forced by unskilful drivers are soon knocked up, which the contractors finding their advantage in promote.2 Reliance on the nobility could create serious problems of control and command. Generals could be in a situation of “having responsibility without authority”.3

Rising numbers Certainly the period from 1660 to 1760 saw an appreciable increase in the number of men permanently under arms in Europe, as well as an increase in 92

RISING NUMBERS

the number that can be described as reservists and the number permanently in state navies. This is even more impressive because across most of Europe the period as a whole was, until the 1740s, one of population stagnation. The marked population growth in the sixteenth and late eighteenth centuries eased the burden of supplying manpower in those periods, but the marked increase in the size of armies in 1660–1760 is made even more noteworthy by the extent to which it represented an increase in the percentage of the population under arms. In 1708 Sweden had an army of 111,000 men, about 5 per cent of the total population.4 The absence of precise population figures, in what was on the whole a pre-census age, ensures that it is impossible to arrive at a precise percentage of the European population under arms, although demographic, social and cultural features combined to ensure that, as before, armed forces were exclusively male and preponderately young. The number of those under arms is also very difficult to assess. Although governments sought to obtain precise figures, and paid wages and allowances accordingly, it was difficult (both then and now) to have much confidence in the figures available. Officers who wished to avoid problems and to embezzle pay, overlooked death, disease and desertion in order to present their units as being up to strength. In addition, there were and are problems in assessing the figures, for it is rare that like can be compared with like. The numbers of those under arms were not the same as the numbers of effectives, and the latter could and can be assessed differently. In his study of fluctuations in the strength of forces in English pay sent to the Austrian Netherlands during the Nine Years’ War (1688–97), Chandler noted, “it has proved very difficult to reconcile the figures given by the various sources for the same years. No small part of this problem is due to the fact that few sources calculated their unit strengths in the same way—and it is clear that all figures from whatever source are at best only approximate”. Earlier in the century the number of companies in Swedish regiments varied between 11 and 13.5 Despite these problems, it is clear that during the period 1660–1760 the numbers of those under arms in Europe rose, a process that continued and peaked in the last years of the Napoleonic wars before being followed by a measure of post-war demobilization. Gustavus Adolphus had only about 30,000 men in his army in 1631, but by the 1700s one of Louis XIV’s field armies could be three times as large, although the average size of individual field armies did not grow at the same rate. In addition, it is clear that in most European countries this increase began in the late seventeenth century. It was not that earlier increases had not been important, for example in France, but rather that in the late seventeenth century increases in the size of armed forces were sustained. There were post-war demobilizations, but they were of less 93

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effect because most states had both the need and the ability to retain larger standing military and naval forces than they had prior to 1660. The late seventeenth century was the period in which many states created standing armies. Nevertheless, it would be mistaken to suggest that there was a consistent pattern in the size of armed forces between different states or that all states had a rise in numbers. The strengths of the Austrian, Prussian and Russian armies increased after 1763, but in most other states, including France and most German states, they decreased after the Seven Years’ War and did not rise again until the outbreak of the Revolutionary Wars. Many states, for example Bavaria, reduced their forces after the War of the Spanish Succession ended in 1714 and did not exceed the totals raised in 1689–1714 until the 1790s. Increases were seen on both land and sea in the late seventeenth century. They characterized both the total numbers in armed forces and the numbers of those put in the field. By 1678 the French army was the largest seen in Europe since that of Imperial Rome, 6 while France was maintaining a navy far stronger than hitherto. Any increase in forces, whether on land or on sea, had a cumulative effect: potential opponents felt it necessary to match increases, because the size of an army or navy played a major rôle in ensuring victory. In 1747 Horatio Walpole, an MP and ex-diplomat, wrote to the Duke of Cumberland about the situation in the Low Countries, “I believe it is universally agreed that it is impossible, that your Royal Highness’ great and superior talents should be able to supply the deficiency of your forces last year, and put you in a condition to overcome or resist the great superiority of the French army without an additional strength.”7 Eleven years later, the Palatine foreign minister claimed that the outnumbered nature of Frederick II’s forces in the Seven Years’ War would lead to Prussia’s defeat, “according to arithmatical calculation, the parties are not equal, and, sooner or later, the largest will overcome the weakest”.8 Specific military developments also encouraged an emphasis on numbers in the late seventeenth century. Line-ahead tactics based on cannon broadsides led to heavier broadsides and thus to a need for larger warships that encouraged a “naval race” between England, France and the United Provinces. The effectiveness of numbers, especially of heavily gunned warships, increased. In addition, it was believed that the larger of two opposing fleets would be able to attack the rear of its opponents. On land, there was an increasing number of fortresses and a major growing stress on sieges in the second half of the century, although sieges had, of course, been very important earlier—for example, in the war in the Low Countries in 1621–48 and the Franco-Spanish conflict in 1635–59. It has been argued that sieges led to a greater need for larger forces, especially if more positions had to be garrisoned and several sieges had to be conducted at once. However, the 94

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extent to which the more extensive fortifications developed in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centur ies, the trace italienne, led to more widespread siegeworks, and thus to larger forces, is a matter of controversy. The emphasis that Parker places on the trace italienne has been qualified by John Lynn,9 and it is clear that a single explanation of the shift towards larger forces must be suspect. Indeed, rather than simply arguing that technological or tactical shifts in weaponry and fortifications led to more substantial forces, which is essentially the Roberts/Parker thesis, it is possible to put greater emphasis on the political context and value of larger forces, and to suggest that if there were tactical changes they were largely independent of the increased number of men under arms or followed this increase. It is possible to conflate the increase in numbers from 1660 (or, more realistically, 1672) with the spread of the flintlock musket and the adoption of the socket bayonet, but these were different processes. There is an interesting parallel on the Gold Coast, to which the term “The Military Revolution” has also been applied, though in this case to the late seventeenth century. It has been argued that developments were not caused by the introduction of firearms, but rather that the adoption of new weaponry was the result of major shifts in military and political organization stemming from social changes.10

French forces under Louis XIV Certainly, the major increase in the size of the French army from the 1670s was neither cause nor consequence of tactical shifts. Instead, it is appropriate to emphasize the stronger domestic position of the French monarchy under Louis XIV and the extent to which it lent weight to Louis’ assertive foreign policy. The French army increased in size because the king believed a larger army was necessary to give weight to this policy, and could obtain the soldiers, not because technological or tactical innovations encouraged any such change. Although its size increased considerably then, a growing awareness of the limitations of the French army during the administrations of Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin, especially after France fully entered the Thirty Years’ War in 1635,11 necessarily throws the achievements of Louis XIV into greater prominence. The most recent detailed assessment of the size of the French army suggests actual numbers of 125,000 men for 1636 and 1639; a peak of 253,000 during the Dutch War (1672–9); 340,000 for the Nine Years’ War (1688–97); and 255,000 for 1710, during the latter stages of the War of Spanish Succession. Peacetime figures also rose.12 These increases were a response to Louis’ ambitions and growing isolation. 95

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During Louis XIV’s reign the administration of both army and navy was improved, although, as was common with early modern “reform” initiatives, it proved difficult to sustain change, and the essential precondition and cause of stronger forces was better relations with the nobility. In essence, Louis and his ministers sought, with a measure of success, to gain control over the army, to re-establish the principle and practice of state-controlled, state-funded armies. The crown sought to avoid reliance on the credit of military entrepreneurs. The payment of troops was regulated; drill, training and equipment were largely standardized; and in 1670 distinctive uniforms chosen by Louis were introduced, asserting royal control of the army and making desertion more difficult. In 1670 the crown began to pay sailors directly. The name of the Inspector-General of the Infantry (from 1667) and Commander of the Régiment du Roi, Martinet, entered the language as the description of a strict disciplinarian. The conduct of French troops towards their compatriots improved and pillaging was punished. The command structure was revised and a table of rank established in 1672, although social hierarchy continued to conflict with military seniority. The French supply system, of men, money, munitions and provisions, was considerably improved, as was the system of étapes (depots along marching routes, where troops could obtain supplies) that supported it. Similarly, a network of magazines, from which campaigns could be supplied, was established near France’s frontiers and used with considerable success in launching the War of Devolution in 1667 and the Dutch war in 1672. Thanks to the magazines, French troops were able to seize the initiative by beginning their campaigns early. These achievements owed much to two successive Secretaries of War, Michel Le Tellier and his son Louvois, who between them held office from 1643 to 1691, and who were supported by a well-organized War Office. Louvois can be seen as the first modern minister of war. Louis and his ministers had greater control over military commanders than Louis XIII had done. This new and daunting military force was applied with considerable effect under the inspired leadership of the Prince of Condé, the Viscount of Turenne and the Duke of Luxembourg. Luxembourg, who employed independently operating advance units, was one of the originators of the divisional system.13 He played a crucial rôle in France’s success in the early stages of the Nine Years’ War. Invading the Spanish Netherlands in 1690, the aggressive Luxembourg defeated George Frederick ofWaldeck’s army at Fleurus (1 July) by turning its flank at the same time as he mounted a frontal attack. In 1691 he besieged Mons successfully and defeated Waldeck at Leuze in a surprise attack. In 1692 Luxembourg captured Namur and defeated William III at Steenkirk (3 August), and at Neerwinden (29 July 1693) the victory was repeated, although only after a very hard-fought battle. 96

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The French navy was developed by Jean Baptiste Colbert, Secretary for the Navy 1661–83. He organized a system for the conscr iption of sailors, purchased warships and recruited skilled shipbuilders from the United Provinces, founded training schools, developed dockyards and administrative systems and saw a major expansion in the size of the French navy. In 1689–91 the French launched more ships of the line than either the British or the Dutch. Defeat at Barfleur—La Hogue in 1692, however, was followed by a shift from the guerre d’escadre towards the guerre de course: attacks on Anglo-Dutch trade rather than fleet action.14 Louis XIV did not show the personal interest in the navy that he displayed towords the army. His only time at sea occurred during his visit to Rochefort in 1671. Louis XIV’s army was spectacularly successful on a number of occasions, certainly far more so than the forces Richelieu and Mazarin, the CardinalMinisters who gover ned France in 1624–61, had launched against the Habsburgs in 1625,1628–31 and 1635–59. The campaigns in the Spanish Netherlands and Franche-Comté during the War of Devolution (1667–8) were considerable successes, as was the initial stages of the invasion of the United Provinces in 1672 dur ing the Dutch War, and the subsequent conquest of Franche Comté. The closing campaign of that conflict was also conspicuously successful. The speed of French success was demonstrated in 1667 when Lille rapidly fell and the Spanish army was defeated at Bruges. It is, of course, possible to point to errors, to strategic overreach and tactical mistakes,15 and to note continued administrative limitations; but it is certainly clear that the French army, navy and military administration were more effective, both than in the past16 and relative to France’s rivals. The army was also used successfully to put down revolts: in Gascony (1672) and Brittany (1675). In addition, France s relative military situation improved as a consequence of heavy emphasis on, and investment in, fixed positions: dockyards—Brest, Dunkirk, Lorient, Rochefort and Toulon—and fortresses. It was only under Louis XIV that a major programme of new fortifications was pursued: under Louis XIII there had been major works, for example at Pinerolo, but nothing that compared with the systematic attempt to defend vulnerable frontier regions with new fortifications that his son supported. Appointed Commissioner General of Fortifications in 1678, Sébastien Le Prestre deVauban supervised the construction of 33 new fortresses, such as those at Arras, Blaye, Ath, Lille, Mont-Dauphin, Mont-Louis and New Breisach, and the renovation of many more, such as Belfort, Besançon, Landau, Montmédy, Strasburg andTournai. He was responsible for the fortifications and docks at Dunkirk. In 1703 Vauban became the first engineer to reach the prestigious rank of Marshal of France. 97

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In essence Vauban’s skilful use of the bastion and of enfilading fire represented a continuation of already familiar techniques, particularly layering in depth, and he placed the main burden of the defence on the artillery, but it was the crucial ability of the French state to fund such a massive programme that was novel. New Breisach, built to control an important Rhine crossing, cost nearly three million livres to construct between 1698 and 1705. A double line of fortresses was created to defend France’s northern frontier.17 French ter r itor ial expansion under Louis XIV was directly linked with the construction of fortresses, a policy already advocated in Cardinal Richelieu’s Testament politique compiled in the late 1630s. They were designed to stabilize the frontier to the advantage of France, consolidating acquisitions, and yet also to facilitate opportunities for fresh gains by increasing France’s presence in contested areas and safeguarding bases for operations, and the crucial accumulation of stores. Fortresses and the establishment of magazines owed much to the primitive land communications of the period and the need to supply armies in the field, which usually operated within a relatively short range of them. It took about 100 wagons a day to supply 50,000 men who were 15 miles from their base; 58–80 miles or 5–7 days march, was generally considered to be the maximum practical operational range from the magazine. In 1732 Marshal Saxe wrote of “the usefulness of fortresses; they cover a country; they subject an enemy to the necessity of attacking them, before he can penetrate further; they afford a safe admission to your own troops on all occasions; they contain magazines, and form a secure receptable, in the winter time, for artillery, ammunition, etc.”18 Thus in 1689 Louis indicated that he wanted to retain possession of Casale, a fortress on the Italian side of the Alps he had gained in 1681, as it provided a base for operations in Lombardy. He also sought to acquire or destroy all fortresses on his frontiers that were held by potential foes. During the War of the Spanish Succession, Louis sought Friedlingen, Old Breisach, Freiburg, Kehl, Philippsburg and Landau, while at the same time a “deeper barrier system” was aimed at, as was the acquisition of fortresses that would aid a strategic advance, for example Villingen, which controlled the route to Bavaria down the Upper Danube. As their position deteriorated during the war the French came to place even greater weight in diplomatic discussion on the retention of fortresses, insisting in 1712 that they retain Lille, Tournai, Condé and Maubeuge in any peace.19 Vauban’s fortresses were not impregnable: one of the most important, Lille, fell to the Duke of Marlborough in 1708. Vauban had directed the siege that had won Lille from Spain in 1667 and had then planned the new citadel, which was completed in 1670. Despite failures, the heavy French investment in extensive fortifications altered the nature of warfare on her frontiers by 98

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increasing the rôle of sieges. Lille fell only after a lengthy siege. Such sieges placed a premium on the value of skilled siegecraft. Vauban made a major contribution in this field. He showed in the successful siege of Dutch-held Maastricht in 1673 how trenches could march forward by successive parallels and zigzag approaches, designed to minimize exposure to artillery and sorties, and to advance the positions from which besieged fortifications could be bombarded and attacked. The garrison capitulated after a siege of less than a month. Vauban was also responsible for other successful sieges, such as Luxemburg (1684), where he demonstrated the effectiveness of mortars in sieges, andValenciennes (1677), Ypres (1678), Mons (1691), Charleroi (1693) and Ath (1697). In his Traité des sièges de l’attaque et défense des places fait pour l’usage de Monsieur Le Due de Bourgogne, Vauban argued that the greater number of fortresses placed an increased premium on siegecraft: one can say that in it alone today is the means of conquest and defence, because the gain of a battle only brings temporary acquisitions unless the fortresses are seized…a war waged by sieges exposes a state least and gives the most chance of conquests, and today it is most practised in warfare in the Low Countries, Spain and Italy, whereas in Germany battles play a greater rôle because the country is opener and there are fewer fortifications.20 French skill in siegecraft was demonstrated in operations that proceeded with great regularity and predictability, and with few casualties, although there were exceptions, such as the successful siege of Barcelona (1697) in which costly assaults took precedence over “scientific” siegecraft. Vauban criticized the operations there. His sieges provided suitable stage-managed opportunities for Louis XIV to demonstrate his power and military prowess and until Louis became too old to do so he enjoyed such campaigning. His triumphs, such as those at Maastricht, Mons (1691) and Namur (1692), were celebrated with services and paintings of commemoration. 21 They encouraged a sense of confidence that Louis expressed in December 1688 when he wrote, soon after the beginning of the Nine Years’ War: “whatever happens in this war, it is certain that the good state of my frontiers and of my troops, will prevent my enemies from troubling the peace of my kingdom and will give me the means to extend my possessions”.22 Yet the French army was not invariably successful, and the navy certainly was not. Louis XIV’s failure to secure the limited and short wars he sought in 1672 and 1688 and his continuing ambition, tested the strength of his army, military administration and finances, as he was obliged to confront major European coalitions. The year 1673 saw not only the French capture of 99

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Maastricht, but also the fall of French-garrisoned Bonn, the capital of France s ally, Elector Max Heinrich of Cologne, after a campaign by the Austrian general Count Montecuccoli had outmanoeuvred Turenne and led him to retreat from east of the Rhine. The French generals of the War of the Spanish Succession, though not without talent, as Marshal Villars demonstrated, were in several cases outmanoeuvred and outfought by the leading British and Austrian generals, Marlborough and Eugene. The greater ministerial control over the French army that had been achieved in the 1660s was not sustained in full during the major wars that began in 1672, as it proved more difficult to control the larger army recruited for these wars. Furthermore, the Nine Years’ War and Spanish Succession War placed major strains on the system of army supplies. Much of the fighting was on or near French territory, which became exhausted because the conflicts lasted for many years, and economic circumstances were generally harsh. There were years of poor harvests and higher than normal mortality rates, which affected both the supply of food and of men. The militia established in 1688 for garrison duty within France was used to replace casualties in the regular army.23 In 1709–10, a period of especially harsh conditions, the system of supplying the army through negotiating contracts with army suppliers broke down, as the government could no longer afford it, and it was instead obliged to experiment by providing supplies through its own officials, the intendants and the commissaires de guerre. It would be mistaken to think simply in terms of French military failure. Although a pattern of earlier French triumph followed by overreach and failure in Louis XIV’s later years is often discerned, the French military system was more resilient than is generally appreciated. Louis XIV had achieved his aim of creating a powerful standing army. Attempts to invade France had little impact, thanks in part to the extent of French fortifications and the sheer size of the French army. French victories at Almanza (25 April 1707) and Brihuega (9 December 1710) won Spain for the Bourbon dynasty. Villars defeated the Dutch at Denain in 1712, and in 1713 captured Freiburg, Kehl and Landau. Yet there was no doubt that France was less capable of projecting its power than had seemed to be the case in Louis’ early decades, and this impression was strengthened when the French army was drastically cut after the War of the Spanish Succession.24

Emerging military powers It is therefore necessary to turn to France’s opponents. The period 1683–1721 witnessed a major shift in European international relations, one that was to be 100

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of great importance for global history. The international “system” altered dramatically as a consequence of the results of a number of linked struggles and related changes in the hierarchy of powers. Change was most pronounced in eastern Europe. In 1683–99 and 1716–18 the Austrians decisively defeated the Turks, while in the Great Northern War (1700–21) Sweden was defeated and Russia gained both a Baltic coastline and hegemony over Poland. William III of Orange s successful invasion of southern England in 1688 was followed by the expulsion of James II, the coronation of William and his wife Mary, and the creation of a more united British Isles as James’ supporters, the Jacobites, were defeated in Ireland and Scotland. Austria, Russia and Britain were all to play a central rôle in European international relations until these altered substantially at the end of the First World War. As they were each strong enough to sustain major setbacks without collapsing, they were to ensure that no single power dominated Europe. In combination they were responsible for the defeat of Napoleon and thus for the ending of the last major attempt to reshape the European political space before the age of nationalism. Austria, Britain and Russia all played major roles in the competitive states system that characterized European international relations in the eighteenth century, and, to a large degree, their rise was a reflection of their success in operating within such a system. It is not surprising therefore that military factors played a crucial rôle in their success, nor that they all saw a major transformation in their military strength. This was most pronounced in the case of Russia, although the increase in Austrian and British forces was also substantial. A similar process can be discerned in the case of what can be termed the emerging regional powers: Brandenburg-Prussia (after a royal title was conferred in 1701 this was generally known as Prussia), and Savoy-Piedmont (from 1720 the kingdom of Sardinia). During the reign of Frederick-William of Brandenburg-Prussia, the “Great Elector” (1640–88), the army rose from 4,650 in 1640 before falling, after the end of the Thirty Years’ War in 1648, to 1,800 in 1653. It then rose again to 30,000 in 1658, a period of conflict, and to about 45,000 in the war years of 1672–9, before falling with peace to 30,000 in 1688, still greater than earlier peacetime figures. His successor Frederick I increased the size of the army to 40,000 while under Frederick William I (1713–40) there was a marked militarization of Prussian society as the country developed to meet the needs of the army, most obviously with the cantonal replacement system,25 and a further increase in the size of the army. George Tilson, a British Under-Secretary, visiting Prussia in 1723 commented, “near 80,000 such well disciplined troops are a very formidable body”. He noted correctly of Frederick William, “choice soldiers well armed, and well trained are his reigning passion”, and reported that everyone wore uniform, “to 101

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strangers tis very odd at first”.26 The peacetime strength of the army rose from 23,000 after 1697 to 56,000 in 1720, and 83,000 in 1740.27 The production of munitions was also encouraged. In 1722 small-arms workshops were established by the government and their management entrusted to the Berlin firm of Splitgerber and Daum. The firm was also used to expand the production of Prussian iron.28 Victor Amadeus II of Savoy-Piedmont (1675–1730) was less obsessed with the details of military life, but his army increased from 6,000 in 1686 to over 24,000 in 1730, a year of peace (albeit one in which war was expected); conscription was employed from 1690. Like the Prussian army, this was a force directly administered by the state; the entrepreneurial system had been discarded. In 1697 the artillery and engineers were brought under direct military command.29 These increases and the growing international prominence of Prussia and Savoy-Piedmont demonstrated the close interrelationship of military strength and diplomatic importance. Frederick William I was keen that Prussia should be stronger than its neighbours,30 and recent history had demonstrated the value of such strength. Lesser rulers also created and sustained standing ar mies and increased the size of their forces. Freder ick Carl, regent forWürttemberg in 1677–93 transformed the traditional militia into the duchy’s first real standing army, which by 1691 totalled over 7,200 men, more than 2 per cent of the population. 31 Bavaria, Hanover and Saxony followed similar policies, while the decision of the Swabian and Franconian circles (groups of terr itories within the Empire/Ger many) in 1694 to maintain their contingents in peace led to the introduction of permanent units into many of the smaller states. In some cases, however, Estates (Parliaments) opposed this process. This was true ofWürttemberg and of Courland, where in the 1650s the nobility opposed the organization of a standing army based on the ducal peasantry.32 While certain states rose as military powers in this period, others did not. It is especially worth noting that the United Provinces, Sweden and Spain (the first two highlighted by Roberts and the third by Parker as crucial and effective military powers during the period 1560–1660) were not so in the following century, although Spain remained important as a colonial and maritime power and displayed renewed effectiveness in the western Mediterranean from 1717. In addition, both Poland and Turkey declined as military powers. Resources clearly played a major rôle in shifts in relative military power—for example, the ability of France to surpass Spain as a naval power and similarly later, of Britain to surpass the Dutch. However, it is necessary to be cautious both in classifying powers too readily as rising and declining, and in relating such shifts too closely to resources. Aside from the Spanish revival already noted, a revival that owed 102

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much to the greater calibre and determination of government under Philip V (1700–46) than under Charles II (1665–1700), it is also instructive to note the ability of the Turks to force humiliating settlements on Russia in 1711 and Austria in 1739. Having made these caveats, it can be suggested that Roberts exaggerated the military effectiveness of both the Dutch and the Swedish armies; he did not look at the more effective Dutch navy and East India Company. The numbers of trained and experienced troops available played a more crucial rôle in the Roberts century and the ensuing half-century than particular tactical innovations, and shifts in the relative strengths of powers reflected their military resources and thus domestic politics, as well as the availability of adaptive and skilful military leadership.

The rise of Austrian power The development of armed forces was not carried out in order to indulge in a military game. Instead, efforts were mutually sustained by fear and opportunity. This was amply demonstrated by the three principal victors in the struggles for international dominance in 1683–1721: Austria, Britain and Russia. Austria defeated the Turks decisively and prevented the Bourbons from acquiring any of Spanish-ruled Italy. The territories of the Austrian Habsburgs grew markedly: Transylvania and most of Hungary (Peace of Karlowitz, 1699); Austrian Netherlands (Belgium and Luxemburg), Lombardy and Naples (Peace of Utrecht and Peace of Rastadt, 1713–14); the remainder of Hungary, northern Serbia and Little (western) Wallachia (Peace of Passarowitz, 1718); and Sicily (1720). Such sizeable gains reflected Austria’s willingness and ability to fight, and in turn sustained it by increasing the potential military resources available. The system of military entrepreneurship under which colonels owned and were responsible for their regiments created problems for the effectiveness of the army, but it enabled the Habsburgs to call on the resources of the nobility of their own lands as well as a considerable number of foreigners. The system helped the Habsburgs to extend their patronage network, which greatly expanded from the 1680s into northern Italy and the Rhineland, and after 1715 into the southern (ex-Spanish, now Austrian) Netherlands. Thanks to military entrepreneurship, the Habsburgs were able to benefit from the economic recovery and greater political order of their dominions in 1648– 1740, which were in part a reflection of a new climate of obedience and cooperation that owed much to the strength of Counter-Reformation ideology, although Hungary, with its strong and independent Protestant nobility, was separate from this process.33 103

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The most distinguished military servants of the Habsburgs in 1648–1740 were both foreigners: Italians who were not born in Habsburg possessions. Count Raimondo Montecuccoli (1609–80) was an aristocrat from Modena; Prince Eugene of Savoy (1663–1736) was a French-born son of a member of a collateral line of the Dukes of Savoy. The two men were both Presidents of the War Council and Commanders-in-Chief (1668–80, 1703–36), and together they provided inspired leadership. Montecuccoli was a veteran of the Thirty Years’ War, and was captured by the Swedes at Breitenfeld (1631) and again in 1639. Like Eugene, he had extensive experience of fighting in both the Balkans and in western Europe. Montecuccoli fought George I Rakoczy of Hungary in 1645, and campaigned against the Turks in 1661–4, winning a major victory at St. Gotthard/Szentgotthárd (1664) on the river Ràba (Raab). The Turks were prevented from advancing across the river Raab and lost their cannon, although they avoided a rout. This was an important departure, as hitherto the Turks had been generally successful in battle and largely checked only by fortifications that resisted their attack; (Vienna, 1529 being the most important example). Montecuccoli had used his imprisonment in Stettin (1639–42) to study the art of war, and in 1640 had begun to write on the subject. His works, Delle battaglie, Trattato della guerra, Dell’arte militare and Aforismi dell’arte bellica,34 were unusual for a senior commander in the later seventeenth century: Vauban, who also wrote extensively, was more of a technician. Apart from his general reflections on warfare, Montecuccoli was also concerned to improve Austrian effectiveness. In part, this was a question of introducing or disseminating tactical innovations from the Thirty Years’ War. As ever, an important element in military change was a transfer of tactics and organization from “progressive” states to others. Thus Montecuccoli followed the Swedish practice of adopting smaller and more mobile infantry formations than the earlier tercios, in shifting the balance between pikemen and musketeers towards the latter, in equipping the army with light field artillery, and in increasing the mobility of the cavalry by reducing their armour. To a certain extent, Austria developed two styles of fighting to deal with its eastern and “western opponents: in the east, cavalry retained their armour, whereas they largely abandoned it for campaigns in the west. “Spanish riders” (logs with iron spikes through them) employed to hinder enemy cavalry attacks, continued to be used in the east until the 1730s, long after they had been discarded in the west. Thus the Austrians recognized a difference in fighting between western and eastern Europe. These developments helped the Austrians in the hard-fought struggle with the French for control of Alsace in 1674–5 and, more obviously, in their wars with the Turks. A combination of mobility and firepower was crucial to the Austrian ability to campaign successfully against both similarly equipped 104

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European armies and the Turks with their substantial numbers of infantry and cavalry and their emphasis on the attack. The forces led by John Sobieski, King of Poland 1674–96, were also particularly mobile against the Turks in the 1680s. The Austrians were to be helped further by the adoption of the bayonet and the flintlock, which greatly increased their firepower edge over the Turks, who adopted neither. The importance of this development is a major reason why the changes in the century after 1660 should not be taken as marking the culmination of a supposed earlier military revolution. Naturally, there was no abrupt break in 1660: Montecuccoli and Turenne were not alone in having fought in the Thirty Years’ War; while earlier reform initiatives had borne fruit. Nevertheless, there was only limited continuity between the tactical changes of the early seventeenth century and those produced by the flintlock and the bayonet, while in most states a more orderly and less financially imperilled domestic context permitted attempts to improve military organization and strength by new methods. There was now less need to rely on the desperate expedients that had prevailed in the first half of the century, that most unlikely of all periods for the description of administrative revolution, whether it is designated as absolutist, bureaucratic, centralizing or military. Eugene was to derive great advantage both from Montecuccoli’s reforms and from the introduction of the flintlock. His victories over the Turks at Zenta (1697), Peterwardein (1716) and Belgrade (1717) were instrumental in advancing Austria s frontiers. At Zenta, Eugene employed effective offensive tactics, immediately attacking the Turks, who were both diverted and vulnerable as they crossed the river Tisza. The Grand Vizier was among the heavy Turkish casualties: maybe 30,000 to only 300 killed in Eugene’s army. Eugene’s victories, either on his own or in linked command, over the French at Carpi (1701), Blenheim (1704), Turin (1706), Oudenaarde (1708) and Malplaquet (1709) shattered the French reputation for invincibility. Eugene was not, unlike Montecuccoli, an intellectual and was not responsible for any significant tactical innovations. He was “largely to blame” for the poor state of the Austrian army in the 1730s, as he failed to sustain it as an effective fighting force in the 1720s and early 1730s.35 On the other hand, Eugene’s generalship was notable. He was victorious against both Turks and other Christian powers (a skill that his contemporary Peter the Great could not match), was more triumphant than any other Austrian general before or since, and was the most successful European opponent of the Turks. In addition, his generalship was recognizably different from that of his French rivals. Although he deployed his troops in the conventional manner, he placed a greater premium on manoeuvre on campaign and attack in battle than did his French rivals. His boldness of manoeuvre was amply displayed in his struggle with the French in north Italy (1701–6), as in his surprise attack on Cremona (1702) 105

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and the outflanking of Vendôme which was a vital prelude to the relief of Turin in 1706. In part, Eugene translated the mobility of warfare in Hungary to western Europe. He did not allow the French emphasis on the defence of river lines and fortified positions to thwart his drive for battle and victory. In part, this was a consequence of Eugene’s personality: the preference for excitement and acceptance of risk that took him into the thick of the action. The more cautious French generals of the later years of Louis XIV, under close supervision from Versailles, were mostly unable to match this emphasis on an aggressive and actively prosecuted war of manoeuvre, although Marshal Berwick in Spain, andVillars, who defeated Eugene in 1712–13, demonstrated that bold generalship could still bring victory to the French.

The rise of British power Eugene’s colleague in command at Blenheim, Oudenaarde and Malplaquet was the leading British general of the century, John, First Duke of Marlborough (1650–1722). His triumphs were matched by British naval predominance from the battle of Barfleur (1692) onwards, and by the state of British public finances and the British economy which allowed Britain to subsidize her allies and to hire foreign troops. The combination of more sustained and more successful British activity in international affairs and a more militarily powerful and vigorous Br itain had been prefigured during the 1650s under the Commonwealth and Protectorate. In his campaign in Ireland in 1649–50 and his conquest of Scotland in 1650–1, Oliver Cromwell demonstrated an ability to mould an effective system of supply and finance.36 The restoration of the Stuart dynasty in the person of Charles II in 1660, however, was followed by a demobilization of most of the army, although emphasis continued to be placed on naval strength, and the English fleet was a significant force during the Second and Third Anglo-Dutch wars (1665–7 and 1672–4) . The navy was not seen as a threat to national liberties, but there was a sustained hostility to the idea of a large army. The origins of this were various, though they were essentially political rather than being based on any informed analysis of Britain’s military situation. A large permanent army was regarded as an actual and potential threat to British liberties, a view that owed much to the experience of military influence and rule in 1645–60, to the association of absolutist continental governments and military force, and to fears aroused by Charles II’s and James II’s intentions and their use of force.37 Criticism of the size of the army focused both anxiety about foreign policy and concern about domestic developments as, after the Peace of Ryswick 106

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(1697), when a successful attempt was made by Parliament to reduce the size of the army. This was done despite the opposition ofWilliam III who feared both that war might break out over the Spanish Succession and that his diplomatic efforts to arrange a satisfactory solution to the issue would be handicapped by the foreign response to British troop reductions.

Britain and the Nine Years’ War Nevertheless, the replacement of James II by William III in 1688–9 was followed by closer relations between Crown and Parliament and the development of a parliamentary-funded national debt that enabled British governments to borrow at relatively low rates of interest the substantial sums necessary for waging war. William had sought control of Britain, landing with 21,000 troops in 1688, in order to use its resources against France. War was declared on Louis XIV in May 1689 and William, as Britain’s king, acceded the following September to the Grand Alliance negotiated between the Dutch and the Austrians. This aimed to force France back to her own frontiers under the peaces of Westphalia (1648) and the Pyrenees (1659) and thus to reverse Louis’s subsequent gains. The Nine Years’ War can be divided, from the perspective of Britain, into two stages. The first was the struggle for the control of the British Isles and the English Channel which lasted until the capitulation of Limerick and the Jacobite forces in Ireland in October 1691; and the French naval defeat of Barfleur-La Hogue in May–June 1692 that ended the plan for a French invasion accompanied by James II. This stage of the war was a success for William, with the important exception of the French naval victory of Beachy Head (1690). Although the Jacobite force of Scottish Highlanders won the battle of Killiecrankie (27 July 1689) over a far larger force by charging with their broadswords against static musketeers, the death of the Jacobite commander, John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, at the battle, was followed by poor leadership, an unsuccessful attack on the fortified position of Dunkeld and the collapse of the Jacobite position in Scotland in 1690–1.38 It was difficult for a Highland army to remain in a given area for any length of time without exhausting its supplies and losing men back to their homes, and a premium was, therefore, placed on movement; this was the case also, more generally, in Iberia and eastern Europe, where supplies too were a serious problem. In the context of Scotland, this meant an advance from the Highlands to seize wealthier lowland areas. A refusal to engage in battle or attack towns did not preclude troops from gaining food from lowland regions, but it reduced the political significance of their presence. The crucial 107

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factor about Killiecrankie was the failure to exploit the victory. Charles XII of Sweden was to show at Narva (1700) that a smaller attacking force, boldly led and taking advantage of local circumstances, could defeat a larger army and alter the strategic situation. However, the Swedes were a disciplined force able to exploit advantages and to respond to a strategic plan. Jacobite generals did not enjoy the same degree of control in Scotland, and Dundee’s successors lacked his ability. The decisive battles involving James II’s cause were fought in Ireland, the Williamite conquest of which demonstrated the potential effectiveness of military forces in this period. Ireland was more accessible than Scotland to French naval forces based at Brest, and therefore closer to French troops and supplies. James II’s supporters controlled most of Ireland by 1689, although Derry, fearing Catholic massacre, resisted a siege and was relieved by the English fleet in July 1689. In the following month William s forces, mostly Danes and Dutch, landed and occupied Belfast. Naval power thus offered William military flexibility and prevented James from controlling the whole of Ireland. Arriving in Ireland in June 1690, William marched on Dublin to find the outnumbered Jacobite/French army (21,000 to 35–40,000) drawn up on the southern bank of the River Boyne. On 1 July William was able to outflank the Jacobite left, before crossing with his own left. Defeated on both flanks, the Jacobites retreated and William easily took Dublin, though he failed at Limerick in August, because of the determined efforts of Patrick Sarsfield. The following month John Churchill, then Earl of Marlborough, took Cork after an action lasting two days, indicating that the defence did not have all the advantages, while Kinsale fell to him in October. On 12 July 1691 Hugh Mackay turned the Jacobite flank at Aughrim by leading his cavalry across a bog on which he had laid hurdles, and the Jacobite force broke, their infantry suffering heavy casualties in the retreat. The Irish campaigns were far from static. Bold generalship was important and success in battle was far more significant than the holding of fortified positions. Although Derry, and Athlone and Limerick, had successfully resisted in 1689 and 1690 respectively, the Boyne had given William a number of Jacobite strongholds and Aughrim was followed by the fall of Galway. Both of the major engagements had been won by the attacking force, and in each case tactical considerations relating to the terrain and to the ability to take advantage of developments had been crucial, while the vulnerability of defending armies to flanking attacks had been clearly demonstrated. War, of course, was more than a matter of battles: the greater priority attached to Ireland by William III rather than Louis XIV was crucial in terms of the resources available to the combatants.39 108

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The conflict in the Spanish Netherlands was less successful for the British during the Nine Years’ War, but their forces were confronting Louis XIV’s main field armies at the peak of their strength. The size of the British corps there rose from 10,972 in 1689 to 29,100, plus 27,209 foreign troops in British pay, in 1694–7. Whereas Charles II’s ar my had cost £283,000 in 1684 and James II’s forces had cost £620,322 per annum, between 1691 and 1697 the army and the navy each cost an annual average of £2.5 million. 40

Britain and the War of the Spanish Succession Expenditure rose fur ther dur ing the War of the Spanish Succession. Fighting over the control of the Spanish empire between the Bourbon candidate, Louis XIV’s second grandson, Philip Duke of Anjou (Philip V of Spain), and his Habsburg rival, Charles (later the Emperor Charles VI), began in northern Italy in 1701; and in 1702 Austria, Britain and the Dutch declared war simultaneously on France. By 1710–11, when the war was at its peak, Britain “was paying for fully 171,000 offices and men (58,000 subject and 113,750 foreign) to fight abroad in Europe”. 41 Portugal and Savoy-Piedmont had been subsidized since 1703 when they abandoned France and joined the Grand Alliance. These subsidies were crucial to the survival of the alliance. In 1703–13 Anglo-Dutch subsidies provided 26.7 per cent of the budget ofVictor Amadeus, 42 without whose help the Bourbons would not have been dr iven from Italy in 1706–7. Other subsidies were paid to Denmark, Hesse-Cassel, Austria, Prussia, Saxony and Trier. Finance was crucial to Britain’s rise as a military power and to the success of the Grand Alliance. Britain faced severe financial difficulties, including a currency crisis in 1696 which greatly handicapped the conduct of the war, but, in a situation where all powers were enfeebled by monetary shortages and weaknesses in financial administration, the relative strength of Britain was enhanced not only by the growing wealth of the country, especially its foreign trade, but also by the administrative developments of the 1690s, including the Table 4.1 English national debt, funded and unfunded, 1691–1711.

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foundation of the Bank of England in 1694. Better and more regular British public finances in the 1700s played an important rôle in the improvement in Britain’s military performance. The British contribution to the allied cause in the Nine Years’ War and the War of the Spanish Succession was not restricted to its financial power. English naval strength increased after 1688, although the situation was less encouraging for England in the early (and decisive) period of 1689–92. Between 1689 and 1698 the English launched 61 capital ships, and, as a result of an Act of Parliament of 1691 sponsoring new construction they had a definite lead in new launchings over both the Dutch and the French from 1695. There was a significant improvement in the logistical back-up to British naval power: a substantial expansion of Portsmouth dockyard in the 1690s and the creation of an entire new front-line operational yard at Plymouth from 1690, which enabled the stronger projection of British naval power into the English Channel and Western Approaches in the 1690s.43 Poor seaworthiness and the need to repair damage meant that the largest warships of the fleet could not operate too far from their bases at this time, which very much restricted the scope for major fleet operations. Revictualling at sea was employed in 1705 to support the fleet maintaining a close watch on Brest in order to prevent the Brest fleet from sailing to the Mediterranean.44 The decline of Dutch naval strength contributed to the more important English rôle. In the abortive defensive treaty of 1678 the ratio of Dutch to English capital ships had been fixed at 3:4. In 1689 this was lowered to 3:5, but during the Spanish Succession war the Dutch were generally more than halfway below their quota, and the ships often arrived late. The dispatch of a large English fleet to the Mediterranean in 1694 was followed by its wintering at Cadiz. The interests of Austr ia, France and Spain in the wester n Mediterranean ensured that it was the cockpit of European diplomacy and in the half-century from 1694 it was to be major sphere of British naval power. The origins of this can be traced to the 1650s, with interest in the Levant trade and an at times significant English presence. This was taken further in 1694, although King William’s Mediterranean strategy had only limited effects in the short term. The projection of naval power was more important in the War of the Spanish Succession. The British fleet was better balanced than those of France and the United Provinces, and its ships were newer. It enabled the British to play a major rôle in Iberia, capturing positions, particularly Gibraltar in 1704, and supporting British forces operating in the peninsula. Fear of British naval attack encouraged Portugal to abandon France in 1703. British naval strength also allowed Britain to project its power in the western Mediterranean. Minorca was taken in 1708 and ten years later, during the War of the 110

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Quadruple Alliance, the British naval victory off Cape Passaro in Sicily was crucial in thwarting Spain’s plans to regain an Italian empire.45 The conquest of Spain proved impossible. Madrid and other major centres could be seized, but Castilian support for Philip V, the proximity of France and the willingness of Louis XIV to devote considerable resources to support of his grandson thwarted his opponents, and thus did not prefigure Napoleon’s later failure. Defeats at Almanza (25 April 1707) and Brihuega (9 December 1710) marked the failure of Britain and its allies.46 They were more successful elsewhere. In 1703–4 a combination of Bavaria, France and rebels in Hungary appeared about to extinguish Habsburg power. The crisis was averted in large part by Marlborough’s bold march at the head of an Anglo-German army to the River Danube, the most decisive British military move on the Continent until the 20th century, and his subsequent victory, in co-operation with Prince Eugene, at Blenheim. The advance was a formidable logistical challenge. Depots of supplies were established along the route and the troops were provided with fresh boots. The success of the march forms an instructive contrast to the difficulties that confronted armies making similar rapid advances in the Empire eighty years earlier. Blenheim (13 August 1704) was a hard-fought battle, with over 30,000 casualties, besides prisoners, out of the 108,000 combatants. Victory was due largely to Marlborough’s tactical flexibility; in particular, his ability to retain control of the battle once fighting had begun and thus to manoeuvre units was crucial. Having pinned down much of the French infantry in defensive engagements, Marlborough launched the substantial force he had kept unengaged in the centre and broke the French lines with an intense forty-gun bombardment followed by an infantry assault and a cavalry charge relying on shock force. Blenheim was followed by the conquest of southern Germany, the major fortresses of Ulm and Ingolstadt falling before the end of the year. The campaign was a great triumph for mobility and planning, both strategic and on the battlefield. After Blenheim and the retreat to the River Rhine, most of the Franco-Bavarian army was no longer effective. The French suffered as a result of divided generalship, but they had also lost their earlier flexibility. At Ramillies (23 May 1706), Marlborough similarly broke the French centre after it had been weakened in order to support action on a flank. This was followed by the conquest of the Spanish Netherlands. The French attempt to reverse this at Oudenaarde (11 August 1708) was thwarted as, after several hours’ fighting, the French position was nearly enveloped when Marlborough sent his cavalry around the French flank and into their rear. Marlborough’s reliance on the attack was less successful the following year at Malplaquet (11 September 1709). His tactic of attacking the French flanks, so that they weakened their centre, and then breaking the French centre with 111

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troops held in reserve had become stereotyped and, as later with Frederick II and the Prussian oblique attack or the columns of the Napoleonic army, his opponents had had an opportunity to devise a response. At Malplaquet the French held the attacks on their flanks and retained a substantial reserve to meet Marlborough’s final attack on their centre. The French finally retreated, but their army had not been routed. 47 Yet, although Malplaquet was not decisive, this did not indicate that a tactical impasse had been reached. Instead, it was a result of good generalship on both sides. The casualties had been very heavy for both armies at Malplaquet, including a quarter of the British-DutchGerman force. Indeed the heavy casualty rates of warfare in this period belie the notion of it as limited. The exchange of fire between nearby (50–80 yards) lines of closely packed troops, the battlefield use of artillery against such formations, and cavalry engagements relying on cold steel all produced high casualties, as indeed did some of the siege warfare of the period. John Deane of the British Foot Guards recorded of the successful but lengthy siege of Lille in 1708 which cost the besiegers 14,000 casualties: this murdering siege, it is thought, has destroyed more than [the siege of] Namur [1695] did last war, and those that were the flower of the army: for what was not killed or drowned were spoiled by their hellish inventions of throwing of bombs, boiling pitch, tar, oil and brimstone with scalding water and such like combustibles, upon our men, from the outworks, and when our men made any attack. Especially the English Grenadiers have scarce 6 sound men in a company; likewise many other inventions enough to puzzle the Devil to contrive.48 The combination of earlier methods with the weaponry of the gunpowder age thus made the experience of war very unpleasant. Marlborough’s tactics, with their emphasis on the initial struggles on the flanks and the reliance on the bayonet in the infantry attack, entailed an acceptance of heavy casualties. Marlborough himself had from the beginning of his career experienced the high casualty rates of warfare in this period. In 1674 he served as colonel of an English regiment in French service, losing half of his officers at the battle of Enzheim, and 1,500 of the 4,000 English troops who, under Marlborough’s command, stormed the fortified Schellenburg Hill in 1704 were killed or wounded. Under Marlborough, the British army reached a peak of success that it was not to repeat for another century. The combat effectiveness of British units owed much to their experience of campaigns and battles in the 1690s and 1700s, which played a vital rôle in training the officers and in accustoming the troops to immediate manoeuvre and execution. Malplaquet was therefore a 112

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serious blow: “the loss of many veterans at regimental level reduced the army’s efficiency”. 49 Even g reater weight must be placed on Marlborough’s generalship, in particular his determination to go on to the offensive and his great ability in conducting mobile warfare. His battles were fought on a more extended front than those of the 1690s and thus placed a premium on mobility, planning and the ability of commanders to integrate and influence what might otherwise be a number of separate conflicts. Marlborough was particularly good at this and anticipated Napoleon’s skill in this respect, although the Napoleonic battlefield was far larger. Finally, weight must be placed on British resources. Whereas Louis XIV essentially chose, from 1693–5, in large part in response to financial problems, to concentrate all his resources on the army and to limit himself at sea largely to the guerre de course (privateering),50 the British were able both to emerge as the leading naval power and to take a rôle on land that prevented Louix XIV from dominating western Europe and thus laid the basis for a postwar diplomatic order that was not dominated by France. On land, the British achievement was in large part putting together and sustaining a coalition of powers against Louis XIV. In global terms, it was the French failure to sustain a powerful grand fleet that was most important. It allowed Britain to secure the British Isles and to take the initiative elsewhere, although amphibious attacks did not always succeed, as was demonstrated at Quebec (1690 and 1711), Guadeloupe (1691 and 1703), Martinique (1693), Camaret Bay (1694) and St. Augustine (1702). Privateering gravely harmed British trade, but, thanks to her amphibious power, Britain was able to register important gains at the Peace of Utrecht: Gibraltar, Minorca, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Hudson’s Bay, the asiento (the right to supply slaves to the Spanish New World), and a limited, though potentially profitable, right to trade there. Furthermore, naval primacy was important, both to the growth in British trade and to the expansion of her colonial power: the North American colonies expanded markedly, and the East India Company base at Calcutta was founded in 1698. Military power and economic strength were mutually sustaining and both contributed to Britain’s stronger position in the world.

The growth of Russian military power Peter I (the Great’s) military reforms were prefigured by his predecessors. Conscious of Swedish developments under Gustavus Adolphus, who blocked Russia from the Baltic in a war of 1611–17, dissatisfied with the strel’tsy (the permanent infantry corps equipped with handguns, founded in 1550), Tsar 113

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Michael (1613–45), Peter’s grandfather, decided in 1630 to form “new order” military units, officered mostly by foreigners. Ten such regiments, totalling about 17,000 men, amounted to half the Russian army in the unsuccessful War of Smolensk against Poland (1632–4). In 1634, however, the new units were demobilized and the foreign mercenaries ordered to leave. Tsar Alexis (1645– 76) recruited foreign officers and armed and organized troops on the western (non-Russian European) model, but in peacetime the army was run down and poorly trained. Nevertheless, the military system was changing. The gentry militia was becoming far less important, in part because it was clearly less proficient militarily than the new-model forces. The gentry forces lost heavily during the war with the Poles in 1654–67. The strel’tsy did badly in the campaigns against the Turks and Tatars in 1677–8, and the artillery, though numerous, was poorly equipped and badly managed. There was therefore a sense that a new system was required, although it was the pressures created by the need for an army capable of defeating that of Sweden combined with the gap left by the strel’tsy revolt of 1698, that forced Peter to make major changes. A large Russian standing army maintained out of tax revenues did not become a reality until Peter s reign.51 A major reorganization of the army was carried out in 1699–1700. Regulations drawn up in 1698 (and possibly written in part by Peter) emphasized the importance of regular armies, organized in a hierarchical fashion and maintained by training. In November 1699 Peter ordered the creation of 29 “new” (western) regiments. They were designed to be both permanent and regularly trained, and their novelty was expressed in part by their German-style uniforms. Peter thus continued his father’s rejection of dependence upon the noble cavalry of the feudal host, whose defects were castigated in On the conduct of the army, an essay of 1701 by I.T. Pososhkov. The crushing Swedish victory at Narva in 1700, in which 8,000 Swedes, benefiting from their greater professionalism and from the favourable direction of a snowstorm, routed 23,000 Russians, led Peter to press ahead with his policy. Relying on the principle of conscription, Peter introduced in 1705 a system of general levies based on a Swedish model. Every 20 taxable households were ordered to send one recruit and they were made responsible for his replacement if killed or incapacitated. This raised over 150,000 men in 1705–9. New regiments were created, 12 in 1705–7 alone, and by 1707 the army was about 200,000 strong. The practice of recruiting foreign officers continued. In 1704 the government took over responsibility for feeding and clothing troops. Peter also developed Russia’s ar maments industry and introduced uniforms and new weaponry. The old Russian flintlock musket was officially supplanted by the Model 1709, an up-to-date design that did not weigh too much and was fitted with a socket-type bayonet, although the supply of the gun was irregular. Foreign experts were used in producing new 114

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weapons. For example, a Dutch artillery specialist, de Konning, became Superintendent of Foundries in Karelia and played an important rôle in the production of cannon for the new Baltic navy. The War College, established in 1718–19, brought coherence to military administration. Peter’s military reforms extended to the navy. A fleet was constructed for the campaign that led to the capture of Azov from the Turks in 1696, foreign experts were imported, and Russians sent abroad to learn shipbuilding. The subsequent development of the fleet reflected both Peter’s personal enthusiasm, which led him to devote much time to the details and to study shipbuilding in the United Provinces, and the need to challenge Sweden for control of the Baltic if Russia was to succeed in dislocating the structure of the Swedish empire and preventing a Swedish reconquest of her eastern Baltic provinces, lost to Russia in 1710. A naval academy and a large admiralty yard were constructed at St. Petersburg and a school of navigation at Moscow. By the time of Peter’s death in 1725, Russia had a fleet of 34 ships of the line and numerous galleys, and these played a major rôle in forcing Sweden to make peace in 1721. Education was an important theme in Peter’s reforms. He founded artillery (1701) and engineering (1709) schools, which graduated 300–400 officers annually, while officers were trained by service as ordinary soldiers in the guards regiments. Peter insisted on progressing through the ranks himself and tried to ensure that no noble received a commission without some form of training. His attempt to make state service a central focus for the aspiration of many led to the spread of uniforms, themselves a mark both of service and of the state’s rôle in allocating rank. Military uniforms became the principal dress of the nobility, while Peter was the first monarch to require all Russian soldiers to wear specified uniforms. Under Peter the armed forces, particularly the army, replaced the Church, with which his relations were poor, as the lodestar of monarchical action and, to an extent, of national unity. Instead of being a semi-sacred figure, Peter made the monarch a military leader. The nature of his successors from 1725 to 1796—four women, one youth and only one adult male, Peter III, whose reign was very short—limited the furtherance of this process, but there was no return to the earlier image.52 As with most of Peter I’s reforms, the results were less impressive than the plans, and his new army did not bring him success against the Turks. He was surprised and outmanoeuvred at the river Pruth as he retreated during his 1711 invasion of Moldavia. The much larger Turkish forces had moved faster than anticipated and surrounded the Russians, and their superior artillery bombarded the Russian camp at Nou Stanilesti. Turkish attacks were repelled only with difficulty and, short of food, water and forage, Peter was forced to sign a peace treaty on 23 July.53 115

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Nevertheless, Peter was more successful against the Swedes, whose army was far smaller. The defeat of Charles XII at Poltava (1709)54 and the conquest of the Baltic provinces in 1710 revealed Russia as a leading military power, and was especially impressive as it stemmed from the defeat of a hitherto apparently invulnerable ruler: it was more than a reversal of Narva. The Swedish army suffered terrible casualties at Poltava, as their attack on a well-defended Russian position exposed them to superior forces and artillery. The 102 Russian cannon fired 1,471 shot. Only 14 of the nearly 700 men in the Uppland regiment survived; and only 40 of the 500 in the Skaraborg battalion. The Swedes lost about 10,000 men and defeat turned into disaster when most of the retreating army surrendered to their Russian pursuers three days later. Riga, which had defied Alexis, fell to Peter in 1710, as did Mitau,Viborg and Reval, Finland was conquered in 1713–14, and Peter moved forces into northern Germany, taking a major rôle in the successful siege of Stettin in 1713 and preparing to invade southern Sweden from Denmark in 1716. No such invasion was launched, but the Peace of Nystad (1721) left Peter with Livonia, Estonia, Ingria and Kexholm. Fears about Russian power and intentions persisted from Peter’s reign onwards. Some were alarmist. In 1723 George Tilson was unimpressed by rumours about Russian naval plans: I see Mr. Dayrolle tells us this fleet is to go to the coasts of Scotland. He might have added, and from thence to Hudson’s Bay, if he pleased, for one voyage seems not more improbable than ’tother; but while this Czar has ships and galleys and a roving head, he will be a scare-crow. Yet a fortnight later, Tilson expressed concern about Peter’s work on a harbour south of the Gulf of Finland and thus less exposed to winter freezing: if he compasses that, and lives he will still grow a more troublesome neighbour, being able to go sooner out from that port, and come later home; than at Reval.55 Russian military strength and its potential impact elsewhere in Europe was thereafter to be a theme of major concern for other states. European, and thus in this period world military history in a geopolitical and national-strategic sense, had changed fundamentally and was not to alter again until the early 1990s, assuming that the developments of these years are of lasting significance. Peter I had achieved this without any military advance on the rest of Europe: Russian weapons, troops, warships and commanders were not superior. Instead, this was primarily a case of what David Ralston has termed the Europeanization of armed forces56 combined with the latent strengths of Russia as a military power. 116

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The latter was considerable. A substantial population acted as a solid base for recruitment and taxation: as a result Russia had a far larger army than either Sweden or Prussia despite these having a higher percentage of their male population under arms. The metallurgical riches of the country were exploited under Russia so that the production of handguns rose from 6,000 in 1701 to 40,000 in 1711, and, as the largest producer of iron in Europe, Russia necessarily played a major rôle in what was still an iron age.57 New foundries were established in the Urals and Siberia, and while the quantity of Russian artiller y increased, the cannon were also organized into categories and uniform standards of calibre set in 1706. Horse artillery was created. There were 100 pieces of artillery at the successful siege of Narva in 1704; 102 firing 1,471 cannon-shot at Poltava; and 122 at the Pruth. 58 State-owned textiles factories were established from 1704. When applied to military ends by a determined modernizer, the consequences of Russian resources were a substantial growth in power and in the ability to apply it. Russia Europeanized, whereas the Turkish ar my remained basically unchanged although, under the command of Mezamorto Hüseyin Pasa, the Turks at the close of the seventeenth century created an effective sailpowered fleet and a more sophisticated administrative structure for the navy. 59 This fleet played a major rôle in the Turkish conquest of the Morea (Peloponnese region of Greece) from Venice in 1715, and acquitted itself well against the Venetians and their allies off Lemnos and Cape Matapan (1717) and Cerigo (1718). The nature of weapons (and other) technology and the European focus of the Russian state was such that Russia’s direct global impact was limited. This was particularly because the development of the Russian navy under Peter I was not continued by his immediate successors and Russia did not create a colonial empire from her main naval bases. The conquest of Siberia was followed by exploration and settlement on the Pacific coast of North America, but the size of Siberia and the impossibility of sailing along its Arctic coastline were such that this activity was peripheral to the centres of Russian power. The possibility of the projection of Russian military power was demonstrated in 1770 when the Russian Baltic fleet, which had entered the Mediterranean the previous year, won the spectacular naval victory of Chesmé over the Turks. The Russians, however, lacked a naval reach capability comparable to that of the western European powers. Russia’s absence of warmwater colonies was important, for it deprived the Russians of the bases necessary for further activity. Russia was essentially a land power; her society had little interest in maritime activity. It was on the Euro—Asian land frontier, especially that with Turkey, that Russia sought to expand. Although Peter I was 117

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not particularly successful in this sphere, the balance of advantage was increasingly with Russia. Thanks to Peter, the distribution of military power within Eurasia had shifted, although there are obvious problems in assessing it. China remained the strongest land power, but Russia was now the strongest non-Oriental state.

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Chapter Five Warfare 1721–63

Accounts of mid-eighteenth-century warfare commonly centre on discussion of the campaigns of Frederick the Great. This is understandable because he was an important commander, his army a formidable military machine, and Prussia a militarized society. Furthermore, it was through war that Prussia challenged Austria’s position in the Empire (Germany) and became a major state. As statebuilding was and is an important theme of the political aspects of military history, it was therefore appropriate that attention should be devoted to Frederick. He was also a prolific writer whose writings on war attracted subsequent attention; while the important rôle of German military historians in the late nineteenth century and their nationalist character lent further force to this focus. It is, however, appropriate to question such an emphasis. In global terms, the most important European military activity was the naval and colonial struggle between Britain and the Bourbons, and the victory of the former. This ensured that North America and India developed within the British system. In European terms, it was arguably the continued growth of Russian military power that was most important. In addition, an emphasis on the Seven Years’ War and the earlier Prusso-Austrian conflicts—the First and Second Silesian Wars (1740–2 and 1744–5)—can distract due attention from other aspects of the War of the Austrian Succession (1740–8) and from the War of the Polish Succession (1733–5). In both of these the French achieved considerable success. In terms of weaponry there was little change of major importance in this period, although improvements in the artillery, not least the introduction of new pieces, led to a steadily increasing battlefield rôle. In tactics, much attention has been devoted to the Prussian oblique order attack formation, but in essence there was limited change, certainly in comparison with the 119

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adjoining half-centuries. It would, however, be mistaken to characterize European warfare in this period as if it were a unity. Apart from the already mentioned contrasts between western and eastern Europe, operations in each were far from uniform. The War of the Polish Succession is an obvious example. In the Rhineland, this led to essentially inconsequential operations. The successful French sieges of Kehl in 1733 and Philippsburg in 1734 did not lead to any decisive military verdict. There were no battles in the region and feared French moves into northern Germany were not made: the successful French advance down the Moselle valley in early 1734 was not followed up. Conversely, the Franco-Sardinian invasion of Lombardy in the winter of 1733– 4 was extremely successful. Good weather allowed the French to cross the Alps, and most of Austrian-ruled Lombardy was rapidly overrun. Austrian attempts to reverse their losses were blocked at the battles of Parma (29 June 1734) and Guastalla (19 September 1734). In 1734 the Spanish victory at Bitonto (25 May) drove the Austrians from southern Italy, a defeat they were never to reverse. The infantry were obliged to surrender and the cavalry was decimated. The victory was followed by the fall of Gaeta. It is therefore hazardous to simplify the warfare of the period.

1721–35 A number of states were militarily important in this period. At sea, Britain maintained the position of dominance that she had enjoyed in the War of the Spanish Succession. This was challenged by the naval ambitions of other powers, although Peter I’s successors failed to maintain his drive to make Russia a great naval power. In Spain, however, defeat at Cape Passaro (1718) was followed by a determined attempt, actively backed by the chief minister, José Patino, to build a new navy and to create a strong support system. Local dockyards and naval bases were improved or constructed at Cadiz, Cartagena, Ferrol, Havana and Santander, and supporting industries, such as rope, cordage, pitch, tar, canvas and rigging production, and mast and timber cutting centres, promoted. A naval academy, the Academia Real de Guardías Marinas, was established, and training improved. The base at Havana was essential to the Spanish navy in the New World, while in Europe, naval power was crucial to Spain’s rôle in the western Mediterranean, enabling her to transport troops to Italy in 1731 and 1734–5, and to attack Oran in 1732.1 Nevertheless, the British navy was still dominant. In 1726–7, when war seemed close between an alliance based on Britain and France and a rival league of Austria, Russia and Spain, the British clearly had the naval edge. 120

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Transatlantic trade, on which Spain’s imperial finances and thus her capacity to subsidize Austria depended, was disrupted by Admiral Hosier’s blockade of Porto Bello in 1726. The galleons and their vital cargo of silver were trapped in the Indies until the easing of Anglo-Spanish tension in 1728.2 Other British fleets were used to deter Russia from hostile acts in the Baltic and to threaten attacks on the Austrian Netherlands, Spain and Austrian Italy. A large fleet was sent to theTagus in 1735 to discourage Spain from attacking Portugal. Yet naval power was not feared by all. Concerned about Russia, Frederick William I of Prussia told a British diplomat in 1726, “as to your fleet, it is of no manner of service to me”. Two years later, Duke Antonio of Parma was reported as claiming, “he did not fear the English, for their fleet could not come to him at Parma”. In 1727 the Austrian Chancellor, Count Sinzendorf, mocked the capacity of the British navy, declaring “several houses shelled in Naples or Palermo will not settle the affair”. Three years later, he doubted the capacity of the states joined by the Treaty of Seville—France, Britain, Spain and the United Provinces—to harm the Austrian position in Italy, on the ground that “landings could not be considerable and the fleets could only burn a few houses”.3 The often dismal record of amphibious warfare in Europe in the century lent weight to Sinzendorf’s judgement, although there was no attack on Austrian Italy in 1730, mainly because of a fundamental problem with the alliances of the period: namely, the difficulty of obtaining co-operation. The obstacles encountered in amphibious operations during the century revealed many of the technical and supply problems confronting eighteenth-century warfare in general. The operations of the period lacked the sustained firepower and continual support that air-power, specialized landing and support crafts, warships capable of indirect fire and ships not dependent on favourable winds have subsequently produced. Landings were slow; it was difficult to ship enough wagons and horses; adequate intelligence about navigation problems and enemy defences was generally lacking; and there was a serious shortage of transport ships. The most successful operations were generally small-scale raids, such as those mounted by Russian galley-borne troops against Sweden in the closing stages of the Great Northern War. Attempts at a more sustained amphibious intervention were generally unsuccessful and on occasion, such as the French attempt to relieve Danzig in 1734, disastrous, although William III of Orange mounted a successful Dutch invasion of England in 1688. Similarly, efforts at combined operations, such as the Austro-Sardinian invasions of Provence in 1707 and 1746, supported by the British navy, had only limited success. While the use of naval and amphibious forces for operations against continental positions had only limited military impact in Europe in this period, 121

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the apparent potential of Russian strength also was not fully realized. The crisis of 1726–7 led to discussion about the possibility of Russian troops moving west via friendly Prussia or Saxony to attack Schleswig or Hanover, but there was no such advance. In 1735 the movement of Russian forces into Germany in order to confront the French was planned but, as later in 1748, the distance and the slow march of the Russians prevented them from reaching the zone of hostilities before peace was agreed. Nevertheless, the Russian advance in 1735 was a factor in the French willingness to negotiate; while the earlier Russian captures of Warsaw (1733) and Danzig (1734) had led to the defeat of the French claimant to the Polish throne. In terms of generalship, there was little new in the War of the Polish Succession. Eugene, still in command of the Austrian forces, confronted Marshal Berwick at Philippsburg where the latter was decapitated by a cannon-ball. Villars led the French invasion of Lombardy in 1733. The poor performance of the Austrians reflected Eugene s failure to use the peace years of the 1720s in order to maintain military effectiveness. He concentrated on foreign policy rather than army administration, although Austria’s chronic financial situation was more to blame than any personal failings. The French, in contrast, benefited from their renewed attention to training from the late 1720s, and their operations indicated the strengths of the military machine inherited from Louis XIV, These operations were, however, inhibited by political considerations. The need to keep Britain and the Dutch neutral prevented an invasion of the Austrian Netherlands and led to only limited operations in Germany. As a result, the effectiveness that the French were to demonstrate in the 1740s was anticipated only in Italy.

1736–48 Whatever the situation with the Russian navy, Peter I’s successors did not abandon his commitment to the army, and continuity was provided in leadership. Prince Menshikov, a general of obscure parentage who became first head of the new War College (which had been established in 1718–19 to direct military administration) was the most influential minister of Catherine I (1725–7). General Burkhardt von Münnich, a German who had entered Peter’s service in 1721, was head of the War College, during the period 1732–41. Field-Marshal Lacy, who had joined the Russian army in 1700, commanded the victorious campaign against the Swedes in 1741–2. These generals retained the essentials of the Petrine system and the victories they delivered between 1733 and 1742 consolidated Russia’s dominance of eastern Europe. They 122

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benefited from the great size of the Russian army. Figures are necessarily approximate, but one estimate is of an increase from 200,000 in 1719 to 240,000 in 1740, 344,000 in 1756 and 450,000 in 1795.4 Russian-Turkish differences over the Caucasus led to conflict. After an unsuccessful attempt on Azov in 1735, the Russians declared war the following year, seized Azov, after the main powder magazine blew up, and invaded the Crimea. Though exhausted by the War of the Polish Succession, the Austrians feared the loss of their only surviving major ally and joined in in 1737. Russian ambitions expanded. In 1736 Münnich spoke of gaining Constantinople in 1739. Though the Russians under Münnich took Ochakov on the estuary of the Bug in 1737, disease and logistical problems thwarted hopes of crossing the Dniester and invading the Balkans, and, indeed, forced the abandonment of Ochakov in 1738. The Russians lost tens of thousands to sickness, one of the greatest defenders of peoples in hot and tropical climes, especially when attacked by soldiers from temperate climes. It is also clear from the considerable difficulty that the Russians encountered with the Tatars that a light cavalry force posed a formidable challenge. In 1736, when the Russians invaded the Crimea, they suffered from a “scorched earth” policy in which crops were burnt and wells poisoned. In 1737 the Tatars burnt all the grass between the rivers Bug and Dniester. In 1739 the Russians were more successful. They marched across Polish territory and thus avoided the lands near the Black Sea. Münnich crossed the Dniester well upstream, drove the Turkish army from its camp at Stavuchanakh, and captured the major fortress of Khotin and the Moldavian capital of Jassy, but, like so many bold military schemes of the century, this collapsed, not through military difficulties, but because of the breakdown of the supporting diplomatic coalition. Following their unsuccessful campaign of 1738 (in which they had been hit by divided command, plague, and a lack of supplies and intelligence information) with a disastrous campaign in 1739, the Austrians unilaterally made peace, ceding to Turkey besieged Belgrade, Little Wallachia and northern Serbia. Heavy Austrian losses weakened their army in the subsequent War of the Austrian Succession, and losses among allied Bavarian and Saxon units had a comparable effect. Russia had not made the territorial gains she had sought, but she was both undefeated and conspicuously more successful than Austria. Her military prowess was demonstrated more obviously when Sweden, encouraged by France, attacked in 1741. A rapid Russian advance under Lacy led to the successful stor ming of Willmanstrand in Swedish-ruled Finland. The following year Lacy attacked again, supplied by galleys. The Swedish army was outflanked by a march along a forest route, surrounded in Helsingfors and obliged to sur render. Fear ing amphibious attack on the Swedish 123

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mainland, the Swedes yielded to Russian ter ms in 1743. Finland was returned, with the exception of Karelia, and this created a stronger defensive shield around St. Petersburg. Russian successes were, however, overshadowed by those of Prussia and France. The death of the Emperor Charles VI in 1740 led to a contested succession as the claims of his elder daughter, Maria Theresa, enshrined in the Pragmatic Sanction, were challenged, first by Frederick II and later by a number of other rulers. Frederick’s invasion of Silesia on 16 December 1740, where his dynasty had territorial claims, was not intended as the opening move of a major European war, a step that would precipitate attempts to enforce claims by other rulers. Frederick hoped that Maria Theresa would respond to a successful attack by agreeing to buy him off, and in many respects his invasion can be seen as the action of an opportunist, seeking to benefit from a temporarily favourable European situation. This opportunism can be regarded as a rash move, for though the conquest of Silesia proved relatively easy and substantially increased Prussia’s population and resources, its retention in the face of persistent Austrian hostility was to be a major burden for Prussia. Frederick rapidly overran much of Silesia, helped by the unexpected nature of the invasion, and defeated the Austrians at Mollwitz on 10 April 1741. The Prussian cavalry was ridden down by the Austrians, leading Frederick to flee, but the well-trained Prussian infantry, operating in parade-ground fashion, prevailed over their slower-firing opponents, although Prussian casualties were heavier.5 Frederick and France encouraged other powers to act, and they did so, realizing the opportunities presented by what appeared to be a Europe in flux. On 15 August 1741 French troops began to cross the Rhine and on 19 September Marshal Belle-Isle, the principal French protagonist for war, obtained an offensive alliance between Charles Albert of Bavaria and Augustus III of Saxony. Charles Albert was to become Emperor and receive the Habsburg provinces of Bohemia, Upper Austria and the Tyrol. Augustus was to become King of Moravia and to gain Moravia and Upper Silesia. French strength was the basis of the alliance. On 14 September Linz fell, and Charles Albert received the homage of the Upper Austrian Estates. The threat of an invasion of Hanover by advancing French troops on the lower Rhine led George II of Britain, who was also Elector of Hanover, to abandon his attempt to create an anti-French coalition, and on 25 September 1741 he promised his neutrality. The simultaneous advance of different French forces was an impressive display of co-ordinated military power. On 21 October French and Bavarian troops camped at Saint Polten, andVienna prepared for a siege: a Bavarian summons to surrender was rejected. Maria Theresa and her ministers had already left for Hungary. 124

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Charles Albert, however, distrusted Augustus and Frederick, fearing that they would seize Bohemia. He decided to revert to Belle-Isle’s original plan to concentrate efforts on gaining Prague, which fell on 26 November to a nighttime storming by Bavarian, French and Saxon forces: there was no time for a regular siege and the siege artillery was delayed because of a lack of horses. Charles Albert was right to distrust his opportunist allies. Frederick and Augustus both abandoned him, while Austrian resilience and the possibilities of winter campaigning were demonstrated as the Austrians recaptured Linz in late January 1742, seized Munich on 12 February, harried their opponents with irregular Hungarian cavalry, and in July began to besiege Prague, which the French abandoned the following December in a daring winter retreat that prefigured Napoleon’s from Moscow. The War of the Austrian Succession was very much affected by political considerations, although that did not make it any less hard fought. War made the position of second-rank powers more crucial and led to an increase in bids for their support, a significant corrosive of alliances that tended to lack any ideological, religious, sentimental, popular or economic bonds. From 1742 Britain came to play a major rôle in opposing France. George II led an AngloGerman army into the Empire in 1743 and defeated the French at Dettingen on 27 June, a victory gained by the British infantry, whose fire discipline was greater than that of the French.6 George, however, was unable subsequently to make a major impact on France’s well-fortified eastern frontier. In 1744 Maria Theresa’s brother-in-law, Charles of Lorraine, was able to cross the Rhine and invade Alsace, but his efforts were thwarted by a build-up of French strength and by the impact of Frederick’s invasion of Bohemia in August 1744. Frederick began the Second Silesian War because of his concern about Austrian strength. Crossing Saxony, he advanced on Prague with very little resistance and captured it after a short siege. Frederick, however, failed to exploit his success. As after the Franco-Bavarian advance in 1741, there was no decisive battle. The Austrian position near Beneschau was too strong for an attack and meanwhile Frederick’s army was being harried by light forces that attacked supply lines and foragers. The Austrian introduction of light troops from their Balkan frontier was a new development, one that caused much comment at the time. At the end of the campaign, Frederick retreated, having suffered heavy losses. In 1745 the Austr ians, with Saxon support, took the offensive. At Hohenfriedberg (5 June) a Prussian riposte centring on an infantry advance supported by the now more aggressive Prussian cavalry was successful. Frontal infantry attacks later that year brought Prussia victory at Soor (30 September) and Kesselsdorf (15 December). These victories appeared to vindicate the commitment to cold steel that had led Frederick in 1741 to order his 125

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infantry to have their bayonets permanently fixed when they were on duty. Like the attack, initially used at Hohenfriedberg and Soor, that has been described as oblique but can also be seen as flanking, this tactical choice was, however, to be countered successfully dur ing the Seven Years’ War. Nevertheless, Prussian successes in 1745 enabled Freder ick to capture Dresden (17 December) and to retain Silesia in the Peace of Dresden (25 December). He had won the war with the army and war chest he had inherited from his father. The French responded to Britain’s military commitment to the Continent in 1744 by planning an invasion of Britain and by attacking the hitherto untouched Austrian Netherlands. The French plan was to send the Brest fleet to cruise off the Isle of Wight to prevent the British from leaving Spithead or, if they did, to engage in the western Channel. Five of the Brest ships were to sail to Dunkirk to escort the invasion force under Maurice of Saxe to the mouth of the Thames. The plan was thwarted by delay and storms. The French were more successful in the Austrian Netherlands, making gains that could be traded as part of the peace settlement. In 1744 Furnes, Menin andYpres were captured: the Dutch-garrisoned fortresses were too weak to resist determined attack. In 1745 the British Captain General, George II’s second son, William, Duke of Cumberland, sought to relieve Tournai. On 11 May his infantry assailed the hastily prepared French position at Fontenoy, demonstrating anew their determination and fire-discipline, but Fontenoy also revealed what Frederick was to discover in 1757—the strength of a defensive force relying on firepower and supported by a strong cavalry reserve. A British participant recorded that “there were batteries constantly playing upon our front and both flanks”. In the presence of Louis XV and his son, Cumberland was forced to retreat with far heavier casualties as a result of his brave but unimaginative and poorly reconnoitred frontal attacks.7 Fontenoy was rapidly followed by the fall to the French of Tournai (19 June), Ghent (15 July), Oudenaarde, Bruges (19 July), Dendermonde, Ostend (23 August) and Nieuport (5 September). Bereft of the support of a field army, it was difficult for garrisons to prevail against a determined siege. The value of cold steel was to be vindicated within four months of Fontenoy, albeit in a very different context. The landing of “Bonnie Prince Charlie” (Charles Edward Stuart), the son of the Jacobite claimant to the British throne, was followed by a rising in Scotland. On 21 September 1745 Charles Edward s army attacked a British force at Prestonpans, to the east of Edinburgh, under Sir John Cope. A Highland charge, the formation unbroken by the fire of Cope’s infantry, led the infantry to flee in panic a few minutes after the first impact of the charge. The royal forces only fired one round before the Highlanders, with their broadswords, were upon them. Cope’s army was 126

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destroyed, most of the casualties occurring during the retreat, for infantry formations that lost their order in retreat were particularly vulnerable to pursuing infantry, as at Prestonpans, or cavalry, as at Culloden. After Prestonpans, the Jacobites advanced on London but, discouraged by a lack of support, turned back at Derby (6 December 1745). Royal troops pursued them. A Highland charge was again decisive at Falkirk (17 January 1746), although the royal troops were also hindered by having to fight uphill, while the heavy rain and growing darkness of a late winter afternoon both wet their powder so that it would not ignite and hindered aiming. At Culloden (16 April 1746), however, the terrain suited the defending Cumberland. His artillery and infantry so thinned the numbers of the already outnumbered advancing clansmen that those who reached the royal troops were driven back by bayonet. The general rate of fire was increased by the absence of any disruptive fire from the Jacobites, while the flanking position of the royal units forward from the left of the front line made Culloden even more of a killing field.8 The mobility of the Jacobite army might suggest a contrast between the more static warfare of slow-moving regular forces and the speed of irregulars; but this would be misleading. One of the most dramatic developments of 1745 was the march of a French army along the Genoese Riviera, its crossing of the Ligur ian Alps and the Franco-Spanish defeat of Br itain’s ally Charles Emmanuel III of Sardinia at Bassignano on 27 September. On 17 November, Asti, less than 30 miles from Charles Emmanuel’s capital of Turin, fell, and this was followed by the Bourbon capture of Casale, the Montferrat and Milan (16 December). Charles Emmanuel signed a secret ar mistice, though the kaleidoscopic nature of eighteenth-century warfare and diplomacy had Sardinian troops surprise Asti on 5 March 1746 and recapture Casale. Bourbon forces evacuated Milan and on 16 June 1746 were defeated at Piacenza by better-led Austro-Sardinian forces. This ended Bourbon hopes of overrunning northern Italy and set the territorial pattern of the peninsula until the French Revolutionary Wars. Nevertheless, the Austro-Sardinian invasion of Provence at the end of the year was a failure. Supported by the British navy, forces crossed the Var on 30 November 1746, but on 21 January 1747 the French successfully counter-attacked and by 3 February the invaders had recrossed the Var. The Austrians did not conquer Naples, and after they had been expelled from captured Genoa by a popular revolt in December 1746 their efforts to regain the city were thwarted. The campaign of 1746 also delivered most of the Austrian Netherlands to France. Brussels fell to Saxe on 20 February after a surprise advance. Trenches were opened before Antwerp on 24 May, the garrison surrendering after a week. Mons fell on 10 July after a months siege. Charleroi was stormed on 2 127

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August after a brief siege beginning on 28–29 July, and the citadel of Namur capitulated on 1 October. In command of a British-Dutch-German army, Charles of Lorraine was defeated by Saxe at Roucoux (11 October 1746), a battle that centred on the hard-fought storming of three entrenched villages by the French infantry. In 1747 Saxe outmanoeuvred Cumberland when he sought to regain Antwerp, and defeated him at Lawfeldt (2 July). At Lawfeldt, the British infantry in defence of the village inflicted heavy losses on the attacking French, only surrendering their position on the fifth attack. A massive cavalry combat on the flank was eventually won by the French with infantry support, but Saxe failed to exploit his victory, leading to the allegation that he had deliberately spared his opponents so that they could fight another day.9 The French divided operations between a field army or “army of observation” and another army that was responsible for sieges. Saxe s successes with the former made the task of the latter easier. Saxe’s protégé, Count Ulrich Lowendahl, a Danish royal bastard, led an army into the United Provinces and rapidly overran the fortresses in Dutch Flanders that covered the Scheldt estuary: Sluys, Sas de Gand, Hulst and Axel fell between 1 and 17 May. Lowendahl then turned to attack one of the strongest fortresses in Europe, Bergen-op-Zoom, the fortifications of which had been strengthened with casemented redoubts by Vauban’s Dutch rival Menno van Coehoorn (1641–1704). Lowendahl began the siege in mid-July, but progress was slow, and the French had to resort on 16 September to the desperate expedient of storming the defences. Massacre, rape and pillage followed. The following year Maastricht fell to siege by Saxe and an army of over 100,000 men, fresh evidence both of French military dominance in western Europe and of the professionalism of French siegecraft. In contrast to Silesia, the French gains were all returned at the Treaty of Aixla-Chapelle and it is therefore easy to appreciate why the battles of 1745–7 have received less attention than possibly they deserve. They were, however, instructive on a number of points. The large number of men involved (200,000 at Roucoux, 215,000 at Lawfeldt), the fluidity of the fighting, and the extent to which each battle was a combination of a number of distinct but related struggles, anticipated aspects of Napoleonic warfare. The frontage at Roucoux was about 10,000 yards. These were also long engagements. Including the preliminary cannonading, Dettingen “lasted from a little after nine in the morning till after four in the evening”;10 Fontenoy from 6 am until 1 pm; Roucoux several hours and at Lawfeldt the hard fighting for the village lasted four hours. In contrast, Culloden was a short engagement, like Plassey. Saxe’s generalship was instructive not only because of his battlefield ability to control large numbers effectively in both attack and defence, but also because of his determined espousal of a war of manoeuvre, as in his successful 128

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surprise convergence on Maastricht in April 1748. His preference for bold manoeuvres, emphasis on gaining and holding the initiative, and stress on morale11 contrast markedly with stereotyped views of non-Frederician mideighteenth-century warfare. It can be attr ibuted in part to his volatile temperament and to his experience of bold generalship. Saxe had served under Marlborough and Eugene in 1709, and campaigned against the Swedes in Pomerania (1711–12), and against the Turks under Eugene (1717–18).12 Yet other French generals, such as Belle-Isle in 1741, or Richelieu when he conquered Hanover in 1757, were also bold in manoeuvre. Saxe gained much glory from his victories. When he visited the Paris opera after his capture of Brussels in 1746 he was greeted by a tremendous ovation and crowned by a representation of Glory. It is easy to appreciate why contemporaries neglected to focus on French naval defeats at the hands of the British (the two battles of Cape Finisterre in 1747 and the indecisive battle of Toulon in 1744) and the French loss of Louisbourg on Cape Breton Island to the British and forces from their American colonies in 1745, and instead still saw France as the leading military power in western Europe. The École Militaire in Paris was founded in 1751, but a need for French military reform was in the main perceived only after her defeats in the Seven Years’ War, although the French did better than is generally allowed in that conflict, particularly in Westphalia, and their reputation was excessively tar nished by the Prussian sur pr ise victory at Rossbach. Nevertheless, had the French army in the interwar period (1748–56) matched Austrian developments or prefigured the reforms it was to experience after 1763, then it would no doubt have conducted itself better in the Seven Years’ War (as the Austrians did), with incalculable consequences, perhaps of victory over Prussia and a vital accretion of prestige for the French ancien régime.

Mid-century reform The years after the War of the Austrian Succession were not without significance in terms of tactical developments, but changes in the military— fiscal context were of greater importance. The most significant in the period occurred in Austria. The financial and administrative reforms carried out by Haugwitz and related military changes, made Austria a formidable power prepared for war and better able to afford it.13 The military reforms did not seek to copy those of Prussia, though they were designed to confront them. An important stimulus was the pressure for change within the Austrian army itself. One of the most effective changes in the Austrian army was the reform, 129

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standardization and improvement of the artillery by Pr ince Joseph Liechtenstein, Director General of the Artillery. In addition, new drill regulations, the first for the entire army, were issued in 1749 by a commission headed by Charles of Lorraine, and a military academy opened, with Marshal Daun as commandant, atWiener-Neustadt in 1752.14 Austrian armies were provided with staff officers and in 1747 a corps of engineers was created. Seven years later, in their camp of Kolin, the Austr ians conducted important peacetime manoeuvres. These changes were related to a longer-term trend in which the army became less proprietary and more professional. The system of military entrepreneurship, of the private ownership of regiments, which had hampered the army’s effectiveness and limited promotion prospects for good officers, was gradually dismantled. In 1722 Eugene had complained about the pressure to give regiments to young and inexperienced princes who ran them badly. Maria Theresa was convinced that the dominance of the army by the higher nobility had harmed it. Instead, she sought to create a military establishment financed by regular taxation and commanded by loyal professionals. This entailed a reduction in the military and financial rôle of the entrepreneurs. After 1744 their opportunities for profit were restricted, while a definite attempt was made to widen the officer corps, in response to the specialized knowledge that was required increasingly, especially in the artillery, and to the limited interest displayed by the higher nobility in such matters and in education in military academies. The Wiener-Neustadt academy was open to the sons of serving officers, a group that included commoners and minor nobles, while the engineers’ academy was opened to pupils of all ranks. The academies created the basis for a professionalized officer corps, producing a service nobility drawn from the middling and lower nobility. In time, service as an Austrian officer became bureaucratic in its nature, rewarded with prestige, security for old age and guaranteed employment, not lands and lordship. Promotion within the officer corps, previously largely controlled by regimental commanders, was gradually transferred to the government. The service-nobility nature of the Austrian officer corps was further enhanced as the establishment of a political modus vivendi between the Habsburgs and the Hungarians led to a significant increase in the Hungarian element in the army with new Hungarian regiments, especially in the infantry. Maria Theresa was determined to ensure the loyalty of the new professional officer group. She consistently sought to upgrade its self-image and social standing, ordering in 1751 that all officers were to be admitted to court. At first officers were ennobled individually for satisfactory service, but in 1757 she decreed that commoners with 30 years of meritorious service were to be raised to the hereditary nobility, ennoblement becoming an automatic result of 130

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service. After the victory over Prussia at Kolin in 1757, the Empress responded to an earlier proposal from Count Leopold Daun and founded the Military Order of Maria Theresa, a graduated scheme of decorations for military service awarded to officers regardless of social rank or religion: 1,241 individuals were awarded decorations.15 This dynastic/state control over the concept of honour was one attempted over much of Europe, not least because it helped with one of the major problems of the age: persuading the nobility to govern in the interest of the state. But it was particularly appropriate in the case of military officers. It represented an attempt to disseminate an idea of honour and rank arising from service rather than from birth, one that was especially necessary in armies where it was essential to persuade aristocratic officers to take orders from men who were socially, though not militarily, their inferiors. In Austria this was linked with Maria Theresa’s fairly effective suppression of duelling in the army. The military career was seen increasingly in Austr ia, as elsewhere, as a respectable pursuit, and not just as a mercenary trade or a part-time occupation for gentlemen. This could be related to the burgeoning of military literature from the 1720s. Increased professionalism had an effect on the officers’ code of honour. Similarly, in 1748, British naval officers adopted uniform. The mid-century also witnessed reforms that increased the effectiveness of the Russian ar my. While Shuvalov s proposals for a Higher Militar y Department or School, to provide a sound knowledge of the mechanics and principles of war, came to nothing, the Military Commission created in 1755 produced new regulations for the infantry, cavalry and Cossacks. The infantry code published in 1755 stipulated Prussian-style tactics. In 1756 the artillery held a number of long exercises which improved speed and accuracy; in 1757 it was reorganized and in the late 1750s received a series of new pieces. These reforms gave the Russian army greater firepower in the Seven Years’ War, and the artillery a sound professional basis. A similar emphasis on professionalism, preparation and reform was not matched throughout Europe, although there were examples of other states taking major initiatives to improve their military effectiveness. The political effort required was such, however, that it came most readily to Austria, as it had been badly and humiliatingly defeated by Prussia. Spain had also seen its imperial system challenged in the War of Jenkins’ Ear of 1739–48 with Britain, with Porto Bello falling in 1739, and in 1742 the British fleet successfully blockading Spanish troops being sent to Italy. The Marquis of La Ensenada, who took over the Spanish ministries of finance, war, navy and the Indies in 1743, was most concerned about naval power, and when war ended in 1748 planned the building of six ships a year in Cadiz, Cartagena and Ferrol, and three in Havana. Shipbuilding facilities expanded at all these ports, and British 131

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designers and craftsmen were hired. By 1753, 20.4 per cent of government expenditure was devoted to the navy, which increased from 12 ships of the line in 1748 to 47 (and 21 frigates) by 1760. Spanish shipbuilders were also turning out better, especially more stable, ships.16 France also greatly increased its navy after the war. The British made significant changes in their navy in response to the weaknesses highlighted in the recent conflict with Spain, and then France. The French 74-gun Invincible, captured in 1747, was used as a model from 1757. Such expansion was extremely expensive. It contributed to possibly the most readily apparent feature of European military history in this period, the ever-widening gap between first rank and other powers. Only the former had the capacity to play a major independent rôle in warfare, and therefore in international relations. The ability of states’ financial-administrative systems to bear the increased burden of war was crucial if they were to remain first-rate. Thus after 1748 Frederick II was able to establish supply depots throughout Prussia in order to speed mobilization. At sea only Britain, France and Spain were first-rank powers.The Dutch could no longer compete. When he succeeded to East Friesland in 1744, Frederick II acquired Emden, a port that gave easier access to the Atlantic than the earlier Prussian ports on the Baltic. However, he lacked the resources and interest to develop Prussia as a naval power, and had a smaller navy than Frederick William, the “Great Elector”, had had in the 1680s. A small Prussian flotilla, launched at Stettin in 1759, was destroyed by a larger Swedish force that September. On land, formerly important “players” in international relations, such as Bavaria, Denmark, Sardinia, Saxony and Sweden, could no longer hope to compete with the firstrankers. Whereas the second-rank powers had played a major rôle in the War of Austrian Succession, the Seven Years’ War (1756–63) was to be an epic struggle of the first-rankers.

The Seven Years’ War: Prussia and her enemies Prussia’s rise led to a determined attempt to crush her. Maria Theresa of Austria (1740–80) wanted to regain Silesia, while Elizabeth of Russia (1741– 62) saw Frederick as the principal obstacle in her plan to dominate eastern Europe. In March 1756 the Russians produced a plan for war, but Elizabeth s Austrian ally persuaded her to delay the attack until 1757. Frederick II, well aware of Austro-Russian military preparations, decided to ignore the advice of his British ally to restrict himself to defensive moves and instead to launch a pre-emptive strike with his well-prepared army. In order to deny a base to the 132

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gathering coalition against him, to gain resources and to obtain more room for manoeuvre, Frederick invaded Austria’s ally Saxony on 29 August 1756. Its capital Dresden fell on 9 September and the Saxon army capitulated at Pirna in October, and was then forcibly enrolled in Prussian service. The Prussian invasion was a dangerous move. Louis XV of France felt obliged to succour his heir’s father-in-law, Augustus III of Saxony, and Frederick found himself in an increasingly desperate situation. In January 1757 Russia and Austria concluded an offensive alliance and in May Austria and France followed, France promising an army of 105,000 and a substantial subsidy to help effect a partition of Prussia. Sweden and most of the German rulers joined the alliance, although Frederick had the powerful support of Britain, already at war with France. Frederick was fully conscious of his vulnerable position and in January 1757 compared himself to Charles XII of Sweden at the beginning of his reign when three neighbouring powers had plotted his fall. On 13 September 1756 Frederick invaded Bohemia, but the Austrians put up unexpectedly strong resistance. At Lobositz (1 October 1756), their artillery was particularly effective and, although Frederick won a tactical victory, the Austrian infantry fought better than before. The Prussians withdrew from Bohemia a fortnight later; not the most encouraging start to the war. Frederick’s survival, the “miracle of the house of Brandenburg”, was the product of good fortune and military success, not only a number of stunning victories such as Rossbach (1757) over the French, and Leuthen (1757) over the Austrians, but also the advantage of fighting on interior lines against a strategically and politically divided alliance. Russian interests centred on East Prussia, the Austrians were most concerned by Silesia and, after Rossbach, the French devoted their efforts to conflict in Westphalia with the British-financed and partly manned Ar my of Observation which sought to protect the Electorate of Hanover, the German possession of George II. However, Frederick’s task was far harder than in the First (1740–2) and Second (1744–5) Silesian Wars, not only because of the number of his enemies, including, crucially, Russia,17 but also because he was very much the major target of Austrian action: Maria Theresa was no longer at war with Bavaria, France and Spain as she had been in the 1740s. Thus, the opportunistic diplomacy which Frederick had earlier used so skilfully was of little value during the Seven Years’ War. Although Prussia survived the war, it was a struggle, and casualties were very heavy. The Brandenburg heartland of the state was shown to be vulnerable. In 1759 alone the Prussians had 60,000 casualties. In 1729 the British Secretary of State had suggested that if Frederick s father went to war “the exposed situation and wide extent of his dominions will be a great disadvantage to him”. Frederick was to discover how exposed his dominions were, although 133

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their extent allowed him to abandon territory and thus to trade space for the vital time necessary for him to exploit internal lines in order to defeat his opponents individually. Logistical problems and different political objectives prevented his opponents from uniting their forces as proposed by Austria in 1759. There was a marked reluctance among Fredericks opponents to coordinate operations.18 The summer and autumn of 1757 was a period of particular difficulty, with a Russian invasion of East Prussia and victory there at Gross-Jägersdorf on 30 August; a Swedish invasion of Pomerania; the French conquest of Hanover; the raising of the Prussian siege of Prague and the end of the Prussian invasion of Bohemia after the Austrian victory at Kolin; a successful Austrian raid that captured defenceless Berlin briefly on 16 October; and the Austrian capture of most of Silesia, including the fortresses of Schweidnitz on 13 November and Breslau on 25 November. Frederick saved the situation at Rossbach, inflicting greater losses on a French force that outnumbered his, before using the oblique attack to repeat the experience at Leuthen at the expense of the Austrians. In both battles the Prussians had a certain element of surprise: the attacking force emerged unexpectedly from behind hills. At Rossbach (5 November) Frederick, with 21,000 men, attacked the French (30,200) and the army of the Empire (10,900) which had planned to turn the Prussian left flank. Responding rapidly, Frederick attacked his opponents on the march, screening his move behind a hill. Major-General Seydlitz defeated the opposing cavalry of the allied advanced guard. The advancing columns of French infantry were brought low by salvoes of Prussian musket fire in a brief engagement, while a second charge from Seydlitz completed their collapse. The French fled in confusion. The allies lost more than 10,000 men, mostly prisoners, the Prussians fewer than 550. Frederick’s ability to grasp and retain the initiative, and the disciplined nature of his forces, were decisive. At Leuthen (5 December) Frederick, benefiting from the cover of a ridge, turned the Austrian left flank while a feint attack led the Austrians to send their reserves to bolster their right. The Austrian left crumpled under the oblique attack, but with the help of reinforcements a new Austrian position was created. An Austrian cavalry counter-attack was pre-empted by the Prussian cavalry, and the battered Austrian infantry finally retreated. Prussian firepower played a major rôle in the battle. After their defeat, the Austrians abandoned most of Silesia. In January 1758 the Russians captured East Prussia, which they were to hold for the rest of the war. The bloody battle at Zorndorf (26 August), in which Frederick lost a third of his force, and the Russians 18,000 men, blocked their invasion of Brandenburg. The following year the Russians defeated Frederick at Kunersdorf (12 August), the Prussians losing nearly two-thirds of their force, 134

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but failed to follow it up by concerted action with Austria. In 1760–1 the Austrians consolidated their position in Saxony and Silesia, while the Russians seized Berlin temporarily (9–12 October 1760) and overran Pomerania: Kolberg surrendered on 16 December 1761. Frederick was saved by the death of his most determined enemy, Elizabeth, on 5 January 1762, and the succession of her nephew as Peter III. Frederick was his hero and he speedily ordered Russian forces to cease hostilities. On 5 May 1762 a Russo-Prussian peace restored Russian conquests, and Sweden followed on 22 May. Peter’s assassination in July and the succession of his wife Catherine II (the Great, 1762–96) was followed by a cooling in Russo-Prussian relations, but Catherine did not wish to resume the war. Austria, isolated, was driven from Silesia, Schweidnitz falling on 9 October, and obliged to sign peace at Hubertusberg on 15 February 1763 on the basis of a return to the status quo ante bellum: the pre-war situation. Frederick s difficulties stemmed in part from recent reforms in the Austrian and Russian armies. Better Russian artillery helped to produce victory over the Prussians at Paltzig (23 July 1759). In common with the fighting power of the Russian infantry at Zorndorf and the Austro-Russian success at Kunersdorf, this helped to fortify Frederick’s already strong fear of the Russians: one that he attempted to assuage by disparaging remarks about them, but which conditioned his policies for the rest of his life. The adoption of more flexible means of supply by the Russians helped to cut the baggage train of their field army, making it less like that of an oriental host. The daily rate of march increased, crucial in an army operating at such a distance and when the political situation dictated victory before Russia’s system of alliances disintegrated. The army made progress in the use of field fortifications, the handling of battle formations and the use of light troops. By the end of the war the Russian army was the most powerful in Europe; its ability to campaign successfully in Germany was displayed in a conflict with a power, Prussia, that had itself overthrown the image of western European military superiority by its victory over the French at Rossbach. Frederick was obliged to change his tactics during the war: as everyone sought to avoid the mistakes of the previous year’s campaigning seasons, warfare was shaped by the fluid dynamics of the contending armies. Initially, Frederick relied on cold steel. Thus at the battle of Prague (6 May 1757) Frederick planned to roll up the Austrian position to the east of Prague from its right, but the Austrians were able to move much of their army to cover this flank. The Prussians were therefore forced to make a frontal attack. Advancing with shouldered muskets, the Prussian infantry was repulsed with heavy losses from Austrian cannon and musket fire, and with Field-Marshal Schwerin being killed. However, the Prussians were then able to advance in the gap between 135

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the Austrian main army, still facing north, and the units that had defeated Schwerin. The exposed wing of the latter was attacked, while at the same time the Prussian cavalry defeated its Austrian opponents thanks to a flank attack. The principal Austrian position was rolled up from its right flank and when the Austrians rallied they had to withdraw due to a Prussian threat to both flanks. Nevertheless, although the Austrians lost about 14,000 men, including 5,000 prisoners, the Prussians had 14,287 dead and wounded. Thereafter, Freder ick was to place more emphasis on the tactics of firepower, for example at Leuthen. He responded to Austrian and Russian strength with a number of innovations. Frederick used artillery as a key to open deadlocked battlefronts, distributed 12-pounder cannon among the infantry in 1759 and 1760, and made use of howitzers, with their arching trajectory, and explosive shells (as at Burkersdorf on 21 July 1762) for offensive purposes: he popularized the gun, and by 1762 every battalion was equipped with a 7-pounder howitzer. These artillery-based tactics were not simply a response to the growing potential of a military arm that derived from technical improvements and economic capacity. They also reflected the military problem posed in particular by the successful use of hilly positions by the Austrian Field Marshal Daun. The defensive potential of the North Bohemian and Moravian hills revealed the defects of Prussian tactics and, in particular, of the oblique order. Austrian and Russian defensive positions, as at Kunersdorf, did not collapse before this tactic. The Prussians suffered 16,670 casualties in driving the Austrians from their well-defended position atTorgau (3 November 1760): the Austrian artillery caused particularly heavy casualties. Once an oblique order attack had failed, it was difficult for the Prussians to regain the initiative. Frederick also used light infantry, but the Prussians, afraid of desertion, did not like to employ infantry out of sight of their officers or through wooded areas. Diversionary attacks were used to break up hilltop defensive concentrations. At Burkersdorf and Freiberg on 28 October 1762, the Prussians used dispersed columns successfully in attack.19

Britain versus the Bourbons The war in Europe began badly for Britain, with naval humiliation and the loss of Minorca to a French invading force under Marshal Richelieu in 1756, and widespread fears that the French would invade Britain itself that year. Prussia’s entry into the conflict altered it both politically and militarily. Under an Anglo-Prussian subsidy treaty signed on 11 April 1758 both powers agreed not to carry on separate negotiations, the British agreed to pay a subsidy, and 136

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George II (as both King and Elector) promised to maintain an army of 55,000 in Hanover, to protect Frederick’s flank against French attack. Under this treaty, Britain provided valuable financial and military assistance to the outnumbered and financially exhausted Frederick. Victories such as Minden also denied the French control of Hanover, which would otherwise have served as a bargaining counter in negotiations. At Minden (1 August 1759) an Anglo-German army under Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick defeated the French under Broglie and Contades, inflicting 7,000 casualties, but with the loss of 2,762 killed and wounded. The courage and fire-discipline of the British infantry won the battle, nine battalions defeating sixty squadrons of French cavalry in an open plain. French planning was poor and their artillery out-gunned, but the British cavalry failed to cement the victory by charging: this led to the court-martial of its commander Lord George Sackville.20 As in 1744 and 1745–6 when invasions of Britain had also been planned, the French sought a knockout blow. The Duke of Choiseul, the leading French minister, proposed a joint attack with Russian and Swedish forces transported on a Swedish fleet to Scotland. Neither power agreed; instead, the French planned landings of 100,000 troops in the Clyde and at Portsmouth, a destination altered to Essex because of the British blockade of the intended invasion port of Le Havre. The French navy was divided into two fleets, based on Brest and Toulon, a division that limited the chance of achieving the concentration of force necessary to cover any invasion attempt. British blockading squadrons sought to maintain this division. Though the Toulon fleet under the Marquis de La Clue managed to get out of first Toulon and then the Mediterranean in August 1759, it was defeated by Admiral Edward Boscawen near Lagos on the Portuguese coast on 18–19 August. Stubborn resistance by the rearmost French warship, the Centaure, held off the British on 18 August and La Clue was able to sail into neutral waters, but the following day Boscawen violated Portuguese neutrality and attacked successfully The mortally wounded La Clue ran his ship on shore and set her on fire to prevent British capture. The outnumbered French lost five ships in total. Bad weather forced Admiral Edward Hawke, the exponent of the policy of close blockade, to lift the blockade of Brest in November, but the French fleet under the Count of Conflans was unable to sail for Scotland via the west coast of Ireland. While still off the French coast, Conflans was trapped by Hawke. He took refuge in Quiberon Bay, expecting that Hawke would not risk entering its shoal-strewn waters in such poor weather (a wind of nearly 40 knots and a strong swell), but he was wrong. On 20 November Hawke attacked boldly and in a confused engagement the French fleet was scattered, with seven ships captured, wrecked or sunk. The British, sailing faster as a result of superior seamanship and a willingness, despite the ferocity of the wind, to unreef their 137

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topsails, caught up with the French rear division and then the action became general. British gunnery was superior and the French also suffered from the high seas. The Thésée sunk with the loss of all except 22 of her complement of 650, when her gun-ports were swamped.21 These naval victories were the decisive triumphs of 1759, because it was naval power that enabled Britain to make colonial conquests—and naval power on which the security of the country depended. Victories were necessary because of the tremendous efforts made by France and Spain to develop their naval power. Together they launched warships with a total displacement of around a quarter of a million tons in 1746–55. Britain at that time launched only 90,000 tons, losing the superiority over the two Bourbon powers that it had had in 1745. Fortunately for Britain, Spain did not join the war until 1762, and by then France had been defeated at sea. The thwarting of French invasion plans contrasted with the failures of British attacks on the French coast to divert forces from the war with Frederick II. British generals hoped that they could “range along the coast from St. Malo as far northward as Boulogne, and by making feints, or really landing, in different parts, oblige the enemy to keep a great force upon that long extent of coast”.22 Poor intelligence, inadequate co-operation between naval and army commanders, and indifferent generalship led, however, to a failure to take Rochefort in 1757. In 1758 Cherbourg was temporarily seized and its fortifications destroyed, but an attempt on St. Malo had to re-embark with losses, in the face of a superior French force. Belle-Île (Belleisle), an island off the Breton coast, was captured in 1761 and held until the peace. However, whereas Britain could be threatened by invasion with serious strategic consequences, France was not thus affected, despite the hopes of British politicians. This reflected the greater vulnerability of Britain to amphibious attack and the smaller size of its armed forces, both regular and militia. Br itain suffered the disadvantages of seeking to act as a great European power without possessing one of the basic requirements, a large army. In 1762 a British expeditionary force was sent to Portugal. This British ally appeared to the French and Spaniards to be a vulnerable target that could be overrun and exchanged in a general peace treaty for British gains elsewhere. Spanish successes in overrunning weak and poorly defended Portuguese fortresses led to urgent requests for British troops and these helped to turn the tide, although the Spanish failure to exploit their early successes by a march on Oporto was also cr ucial. Br itish generals complained about poor communications and Portuguese supplies, especially of horses, mules, bread, forage and firewood; but the army was still able to operate effectively. The Franco-Spanish retreat was because of the start of the winter rains, the 138

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awareness that nothing could be gained from the peace negotiations, and the strength the British brought to Portuguese resistance.

Colonial conflict A greater emphasis on colonial issues than before characterized AngloBourbon relations in mid-century and led to the outbreak of hostilities between Britain and France in 1754. French ministers did not want war but they were nevertheless determined to maintain their colonial position. The governors of Canada sought to prevent the westward expansion of the British colonies by constructing a chain of forts from Canada to Louisiana. In turn, the British ministry believed there was a French plan to weaken fatally the British position. Concern increased in 1753 when the French began to build a fort in the Ohio valley. The Governor of Virginia was ordered to use force to repel French acts of aggression, which were defined as attempts to build forts in the Ohio valley, or attempts to prevent the erection of the forts which the British Ohio Company had been given permission to construct. The following summer hostilities began in the disputed region, the French emerging victorious. A superior French force obliged American provincial troops at Fort Prince George and Fort Necessity, the latter under George Washington, to surrender. The French hoped that their success would lead the British colonists to be more cautious in their projects, but the British government responded in September 1754 by deciding to send two regiments to America which were intended to drive the French from the Ohio. On 9 July 1755 this force, under Major-General Edward Braddock, was defeated near Fort Duquesne by the outnumbered French and their Indian allies, who made excellent use of tree cover to fire at the exposed British force. British morale collapsed in the face of the novel challenge. The British failed to attack the ambushing forces, and instead held their ground, thus making excellent targets. Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Gage reported: a visible terror and confusion appeared amongst the men… The same infatuation attended the whole; none would form a line of battle, and the whole army was very soon mixed together, twelve or fourteen deep, firing away at nothing but trees, and killing many of our own men and officers… The artillery did their duty perfectly well, but, from the nature of the country, could do little execution… Of the 1,459 British troops, 977 were killed or wounded; the French lost only 40. Braddock’s defeat posed a challenge to conventional military tactics and 139

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raised the question as to how best the British should operate in the “wilderness of warfare” of North America. Horatio Sharp, the Governor of Maryland, suggested that “in case of another campaign against Fort Duquesne …there ought to be two, or at least one, thousand of our woodsmen or hunters, who are marksmen and used to rifles, to precede the army and engage the Indians in their own way”.23 Advances were indeed to be made in “wilderness warfare”, the use of light and irregular units and their adaptation to Indian warfare. The British were able to deploy light infantry and grenadiers against the Carolina Indians in 1760, 24 but the crucial campaigns in North America were not waged in the interior— but rather centred on the capture of major fortified positions. Thus, Europeanstyle warfare was waged. War with France was formally declared in 1756, and the French took the initiative, driving the British away from Lake Ontario, with the capture of Forts Bull, George, Ontario and Oswego. The British, however, sought decisive victory. In February 1757 William Pitt the Elder, the most dynamic of the ministers, wrote to the Earl of Loudoun, commander in North America, that he should be able to: form, early in the spring, an army of near 17,000 men, His Majesty doubts not, but with such a force, supplied with artillery, and supported with a strong squadron, your Lordship will find yourself in a condition to push, with the utmost vigour, an offensive war, and to effectuate some great and essential impressions on the enemy. The King is of opinion, that the taking of Louisbourg and Quebec, can alone prove decisive. North American colonies were ordered to provide military assistance. 25 However, it proved easier to plan victory than to secure it. Poor weather helped to ensure that the British force did not assemble at Halifax until July By then the French had succeeded in assembling a superior fleet at Louisbourg, a consequence of the British failure to blockade Brest. The council of war summoned by Loudoun decided not to risk disaster by landing on Cape Breton Island. On 9 August, while the British forces in North America were concentrated for the Louisbourg expedition, Fort William Henry at the head of Lake George fell to a greatly superior force under the Marquis de Montcalm, the French commander at Quebec. The fort capitulated after a heavy bombardment from the French batteries. The Hudson valley was thus exposed to attack, though Montcalm decided not to press his advantage. Pitt had the commanders he blamed for failure in North America removed, and in 1758 he took a prominent rôle in planning a three-pronged offensive on Canada. Separate forces were to attackTiconderoga and Crown Point en route 140

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to Montreal, as well as Louisbourg and Fort Duquesne. The largest army was sent under General James Abercromby against Ticonderoga, but it was the smaller force under Generals Jeffrey Amherst and James Wolfe, and Admiral Edward Boscawen, which attacked Louisbourg that was successful. Thirteen thousand British troops landed on Cape Breton on 8 June and, after a short siege, Louisbourg surrendered on 26 July, with 3,000 Frenchmen becoming prisoners of war, while the French also lost five ships of the line and four frigates. The main offensive was, however, blunted at Ticonderoga on 8 July: the attempt to storm the fortified French position was a costly failure. The French fortifications were stronger than anticipated and nearly 2,000 British men were killed or wounded, a very high figure for a British army in a transoceanic operation. The third prong was successful. An army of 7,000, mainly American provincials, advanced on Fort Duquesne, the 300 defenders withdrew on 30 November, and the rebuilt fort was named Fort Pitt. The French were further weakened when the British promise that they would not settle west of the Appalachians led the Ohio Indians to abandon the French. Nevertheless, the three prongs had not been mutually supporting, and Montcalm had been able to concentrate his efforts against Abercromby. The French might have been heavily outnumbered, but the concentrating of overwhelming British forces at crucial points faced serious logistical problems. Given the serious logistical difficulties of operating in the interior on the Hudson-Lake Champlain axis, it would have been wiser to make Louisbourg and the St. Lawrence the principal sphere of operations in 1758 (as it was to be in 1759), as Britain could have used her control of the sea to best effect there; although in 1758 the surrender of Louisbourg was not followed up. Despite this setback, by late 1758 a more optimistic note characterized British ministerial thinking about the war. Plans were by then readily advanced to seize French possessions. In West Africa, Goree fell that winter. The fall of Louisbourg had demonstrated the failure of the French strategy of seeking to compensate for naval weaknesses by using fortified bases to command crucial sea lanes.26 Louisbourg was designed to guard the eastern approaches to New France (Canada), but Britain’s naval predominance, which was helped by the financial problems of the French navy,27 led not only to the fall of Louisbourg, but also to the successful advance on Quebec in 1759. Wolfe’s force of 8,500 troops were convoyed up the St. Lawrence by a fleet of 49 warships, arriving on 26 June, but their initial operations were unsuccessful. Wolfe then decided on a risky move. His army moved upriver of Quebec, and a successful nocturnal scaling of the cliffs left Wolfe on 13 September positioned to the west of Quebec, cutting the French supply lines. Nevertheless, the British position was dangerous. Montcalm had more troops and, in addition, fresh 141

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French forces were approaching the British rear. Instead of consolidating his strong defensive position, however, Montcalm chose to attack. The French advanced in columns, but their formation broke down and while already in some disorder they sustained heavy fire at close range from the British lines. The French retreated, pursued by the British. Although Quebec had not fallen, their defeat left the French demoralized. Most of the army retreated upriver and Quebec surrendered on 18 September. The following year, the French advanced on Quebec, and at the battle of Sainte-Foy on 28 April 1760 the British repeated Montcalm s mistake, giving battle when remaining in Quebec would have been wiser. The British were pushed back by a French bayonet charge and besieged in Quebec until a British fleet arrived with reinforcements the following month. The French then fell back on Montreal. In the summer of 1760 the three-pronged British advance finally worked; the British campaign was a logistical triumph. British forces advanced from Quebec, Lake Champlain (where Ticonderoga and Crown Point had been captured in 1759) and Lake Ontario, and on 8 September 1760 the 3,520 French troops in Montreal surrendered to Amherst’s force of 17,000.28 Canada had fallen. This owed much to British naval strength and the failure of France to send reinforcements in 1759, but the British were also helped by their ability to adapt to the tactical exigencies of irregular wilderness warfare and by the military and logistical support of their North American colonies. Demography was important. Whereas Spanish America was populous, the mainland French colonies were not. In contrast to Br itish Amer ica, immigration was not greatly encouraged and European settlement was restricted to the French. Canada had only about 56,000 inhabitants in 1740, compared with nearly a million in British America; this had a direct military impact in the form of a smaller militia. The recruitment of troops from the large North American colonial population played a rôle in British success in the Caribbean and in Canada, although army and naval units from Britain were far more important. The British were also helped by the relative freedom from disease of Canada compared to the Caribbean. French hopes that disease would dislodge the forces besieging Louisbourg in 1758 proved misplaced. In the West Indies, however, the situation was less favourable. Tropical diseases, particularly yellow fever, reduced the effectiveness of regular troops unfamiliar with the region and increased the relative value of the colonial militia and of fortifications that could delay attacking armies and thus increase their exposure to disease. It has been argued that yellow fever confer red a “decisive advantage…upon defenders”. British operations near Pondicherry came to a halt in the summer of 1761: “the then approaching season made it absolutely necessary, as the 142

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Europeans in general suffer greatly by the excessive heat of the weather…but notwithstanding all possible precautions the army has sustained great loss by sickness”.29 The continued ravages of disease, despite some medical advances, indicated that eighteenth-century science and organization, while capable of charting the Pacific, could not meet the ecological challenge of the Tropics. Though scurvy had been recognized as a problem of diet, little was known about the cause or transmission of the major military and tropical diseases and this hindered efforts at prevention or cure. Body lice and a fly-carried bacillus were not recognized as the carriers of typhus and dysentery respectively, while mosquitoes were not seen as the vectors of malar ia and yellow fever. A medical regime of bloodletting was unable to provide cures. In 1740–2 the British forces in the West Indies lost over 70 per cent of their strength. In 1762, when they took Havana, they lost a third of their troops to yellow fever and malaria. The percentage was even greater in the British force sent to the Caribbean in 1796. Losses through disease thwarted British expeditions to Central America in 1779–80. As Bourbon naval weakness tended to leave the initiative to the British in the West Indies, it is clear that tropical disease and local defensive systems had to compensate. In 1759–62 the British were nevertheless successful in capturing the major Bourbon bases. In the West Indies, Guadeloupe was captured in 1759 and Martinique in 1762. The British also prevailed in India. The struggle there with France was conducted by the East India Company, but the government provided some military support. A regiment and six warships were sent to India, four companies of artillery following in 1755. They helped Robert Clive defeat the Indian prince, Surajah Dowla, at Plassey on 23 June 1757, and thus laid the basis for the virtual control of Bengal and Bihar by the East India Company, the source of Britain’s eventual Indian empire. However, in face of the arrival of French reinforcements in 1757 and 1758, and of a French revival in southern India that led to an unsuccessful siege of Madras in early 1757, Clive sought assistance. Reinforcements were sent in 1759 and 1760 and, as a result, Eyre Coote was able to defeat a larger French force under Count Lally atWandewash on 22 January 1760. Coote s account of his victory emphasized the value of the British artillery.30 Wandewash was followed by the rapid fall of hostile positions such as Cuddalore.The remaining French possessions in India were captured in 1760 and early 1761, Pondicherry surrendering on 15 January 1761 after an eight-month siege. British success in colonial warfare led at the Peace of Paris (1763) to the recognition of significant colonial gains. This stemmed from their ability to provide the military requirements for victory in colonial campaigns: assured naval superiority sufficient to permit the landing and supply of an amphibious 143

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force that would successfully besiege the major fortress, whose capture would lead to the effective end of Bourbon strength. The British landed successfully on Martinique in 1762 “silencing the batteries by the ships’ gunfire”. 31 Campaigns centred on the capture of major fortresses and centres of government, such as Louisbourg and Quebec, all of which could be reached by water. Experience with sieges was obviously important. Operations in the hinterlands around fortresses were limited. The British captured Manila (6 October 1762) and Havana (12 August 1762), but not the Philippines or Cuba. However, they gave effective political and military control of what Britain sought: bargaining counters for the inevitable peace treaty. The same was even more true of those French bases that lacked any real hinterland: Goree, Pondicherry, Louisbourg and the principal fortresses in the West Indies. The whole of French Canada fell into British hands with the surrender of Montreal. The European presence overseas was based substantially upon warships and fortresses. The range of British interests can be seen in the careers of military figures. Lieutenant-Colonel Justly Watson (c. 1710–57) of the Royal Engineers served during the siege of Gibraltar (1727), in the Caribbean (1741–4), in the expedition to the Breton coast in 1746, in North America (1754–5) and (1756–7) and on the west coast of Africa (1755–6). In the last two mentioned he was responsible for improving the fortifications of British bases. In 1762 British forces campaigned around the world, capturing Havana, Manila and Martinique, fighting the French in Westphalia and helping to defend Portugal. This global reach reflected Britain’s position as the leading naval power. This was not without problems. Manpower was a serious difficulty, dependent on impressment—forcible conscription by the press gang—which led not only to individual hardship and the disruption of trade, but also to problems of desertion and generally inadequate naval manpower: a major problem, given the large crews required to work the sails and man the guns in warships. In 1755–7, 12,700 men deserted out of a total of 70,000 recruited. In comparison, 143 died in combat while 13,000 were lost through disease and the need to discharge unfit men. 32 The absence of a naval reserve or of a regular system of conscription made it difficult for the navy to seize strategic advantages. In February 1759, when it was learnt that the French were intending to invade, only 21 of the 41 ships of the line in British waters were properly manned. The emphasis on naval manpower ensured that in 1755, before war was formally declared, the British navy began seizing French vessels so that their fleet would lack sailors and there would be insufficient ships to mount an invasion.33 Despite its problems, British naval power rested on an extensive and effective administrative system that indicated the capability of the British state for successful and continuous state-directed action.34 There was good naval 144

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leadership. An experienced admiral, George, Lord Anson, was First Lord of the Admiralty (1751–62), while admirals such as Boscawen, Hawke, Pocock and Rodney were bold and effective commanders. Naval superiority also owed much to the establishment of a large and efficient Western Squadron blocking communications between France and its colonies and also protecting Britain from invasion. The success of that Western Squadron in 1759 was the result of developing the method and means to sustain a close blockade of Brest. Colonial success was due in part to the beginnings of a policy of establishing naval bases in the Caribbean (Kingston and Port Royal; from 1729, Port Antonio on Jamaica; and from 1728, English Harbour, Antigua) and in Nova Scotia (Halifax, founded 1749).35 The harbour facilities at Halifax were able to support the over-wintering of a substantial squadron in 1758–9, and growth in British naval capability was a factor in the difference between the failure of the 1690 and 1711 expeditions against Quebec and the success of that of 1759. By 1762 the navy had about 300 ships and 84,000 men, a size that reflected the growth of the British mercantile marine, population, economy and public finances, as well as a dramatic shipbuilding programme during the war.36 Many ships were used for convoy duty, again a reflection of the importance of trade. Thanks to captures and shipbuilding, the navy had a displacement tonnage of about 375,000 tons in 1760, the largest hitherto in the world. The latest estimates for the national income of Britain, in current prices in £millions, show an increase from 60.77 in 1712 to 79.26 in 1752, 89.86 in 1762 and 118.29 in 1782.37 The combination of this growth and the creation of an effective dedicated military machine was a reflection of the particular power that Europe was acquiring and wielding in the world. As naval strength served the extension of this power, protecting trade and securing colonial possessions, it was both cause and consequence of a growing source of power that was spreading its influence over the oceans of the world.

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The world: Europe overseas, 1763

Chapter Six Warfare 1763–91

With a few, small-scale exceptions, 1763–91 was not a period of warfare in western Europe. This was also the case with central Europe, other than for the short and inconclusive War of the Bavarian Succession (1778–9). The period commonly suffers from relatively little attention, being seen principally in terms of new developments, particularly in France, that prefigured the warfare of the revolutionary period. It is, however, instructive also to consider the warfare of these years in northern and, more especially, eastern Europe; and to assess the first of the “revolutionary” struggles, the War of Amer ican Independence (1775–83). In combination, these reveal that this period was one of considerable importance. Discussion in France after 1763 about different ways of waging war would be of limited importance to our study apart from the debate about their impact on French Revolutionary and Napoleonic warfare. This is because the French army of 1763–91 was not at the forefront of military attention; France was at peace for most of the period and there is little sign that the discussion had much impact on French practice during her sole conflict of the period: war with Britain (1778–83) as part of the War of American Independence. The latter conflict did not entail war on the European mainland, except for the Spanish siege of Gibraltar: there was no advance on Hanover comparable to those of 1741 and 1757. In addition, France took no military rôle in the European wars of the period. Indeed, she acted as a mediator of the War of Bavarian Succession, rather than seeking to exploit the opportunity to advance her frontiers. This was an aspect of the more pacific nature of French foreign policy after the Seven Years’ War, certainly much more so than during the reign of Louis XIV. This was expressed in diplomatic terms by alliance with Austria from 1756 until the outbreak of the French Revolutionary War. This in effect brought peace and stability to France’s frontiers and made it less necessary for 148

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France to have a substantial army. Indeed, she did not match the rise in numbers of the armies of Austria, Prussia and Russia. The nominal size of the Austrian army rose from 157,000 in 1740 to 174, 645 in 1775, and 307,093 in 1783; and the number of effectives also rose appreciably: from 107,892 in 1740 to 170,562 in 1775. In war years the totals were higher: 308,555 nominally in the field army in 1779 and 314,873 in 1789–90, figures that excluded the frontier militia which was 73,000 strong in 1782.1

The era of the dominance of the Prussian system The French army was not only smaller, but it also did not seem to be the pacesetter in military matters. Those interested in such affairs attended the Prussian manoeuvres and studied the campaigns of Frederick II. Prussian military regulations were translated, and Prussian drill adopted. In 1762 Peter III incurred unpopularity by introducing Prussian drill and uniform in Russia; in his Suzdal Regulations of 1763–4, Alexander Suvorov, then just a colonel, criticized Prussian-style drill. Charles III of Spain used Prussia as a military model for both infantry and cavalry tactics. Those who had served under Frederick were able to gain posts elsewhere, Catherine II recruiting Count Friedrich ofAnhalt in 1783. William Fawcett, later British Adjutant General, translated the regulations for the Prussian infantry into English in 1754 and 1757, and for the cavalry in 1757. In 1777 Nathanael Greene, a leading general in the army of Revolutionary North America, cited Frederick, “the greatest General of the age”, when attempting to dissuade George Washington from attacking Philadelphia.2 From 1764 to 1785 the British kept yearly summaries of the annual Prussian manoeuvres, and the British drill regulations of 1786 were based on a manual by the Prussian Inspector-General. In 1782 George III’s second son, Frederick, Duke ofYork, reviewed Prussian garrisons in Westphalia and the troops demonstrated manoeuvres for him. In 1787 Captain John Barker attended reviews at Berlin, Potsdam and Magdeburg, Colonel Gordon toured the battlefield at Leuthen, and Sir James Murray attended the Austrian reviews.3 Cornwallis met Frederick II at the Prussian reviews in 1785, although he was critical of the lack of flexibility in Prussian tactics. 4 In contrast, Louis-Alexandre Berthier, later Napoleon’s Chief of Staff and Minister of War, was much impressed by the Silesian manoeuvres in 1783 and applauded Prussian precision. Because of the prestige of Prussian methods, a high premium was placed on drill: as Liddell Hart subsequently pointed out, “the military world of his time, dazzled by his [Frederick’s] successes, sought their secret in his tactical 149

Central Europe, 1786

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forms rather than in his tactical eye”. 5 Colonel David Dundas, who had attended the Austrian, French and especially the Prussian manoeuvres, published in 1788 The principles of military movements, on which the British Regulations of 1792 were based. Dundas issued a call for order: In order to facilitate the movements of great armys, and to enforce their discipline, it is necessary to organize, divide, subdivide them; to establish such general regulations as may prevent the repetition of a tedious but essential detail at times when action and exertion are required and particularly; to ascertain the dutys and attentions of individuals in every situation of march; so that the most concise orders may suffice to put the army in motion; and to place it at all times ready to execute with exactness and alacrity such intentions of its commander as may arise from the circumstances of the moment. He praised the instructions of 1760, both of Marshal Broglie and his opponent, Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, under which, he claimed, troops had moved “as parts of one and the same great machine”, and criticized any stress on the adoption of a looser, more open tactical system for light infantry. Dundas knew nothing of Frederick’s consideration of new, more flexible tactical ideas in 1768, in particular an advance in open order.6 Thus European commentators remained most impressed by the Prussian army, and largely ignorant of new French ideas. Prussia’s continued high reputation owed something to the brevity of the War of the Bavar ian Succession (1778–9), in which the Austrian Field Marshal Lacy was able to use massive concentrations of defensive forces in strong positions in the Bohemian hills to thwart Frederick’s bold plan for the conquest of Bohemia. He hoped to use diversionary attacks on Moravia and north-east Bohemia in order to leave the way clear for a march via Saxony on Prague by his brother, Prince Henry However, Frederick s diversionary move into north-east Bohemia was blocked by Austrian fieldworks along the western bank of the upper Elbe. Frederick hoped to breach the Austrian positions near Jaromiersch, but decided that their lines, composed of batteries, palisades and abatis, and supported by a large army, were too strong. A later attempt to pass the upper Elbe at Hohenelbe was blocked by a rapid Austrian response. His forces suffering badly from dysentery and desertion, Frederick withdrew to Silesia. In 1779 the Austrian army was far larger, and Frederick was happy to negotiate peace. However, there was no dramatic battle; no equivalent to Rossbach orValmy to register an apparently traumatic shift in military prowess, for, unlike in the Seven Years’ War, Prussia was not also faced by France, Russia and Sweden. The war revealed serious weaknesses in the Prussian army: the absence of sufficient supplies, which 152

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hindered the Prusso-Saxon invasion of north-west Bohemia; a demoralized infantry; an undisciplined cavalry; poor medical services; and an inadequate artillery train: in some respects the army Frederick had created was inferior to that he had inherited from his father and used so successfully in the 1740s. Nevertheless, these weaknesses attracted little attention. Frederick’s cautious diplomacy kept Prussia at peace for the rest of his reign. His nephew, Frederick William II (1786–97), was more volatile, but the Prussian intervention in the Dutch Crisis in 1787 and confrontation with Austria in 1790, and with Russia in 1791, did not lead to the major conflict that might have shattered the Prussian myth and made the collapse of the Prussian military machine and state before Napoleon in 1806 less surprising; by then the Prussians lacked recent military experience. Conversely, there was no triumph to reassert France’s military reputation. The British defeat at Yorktown in 1781 owed much to both the French army and navy, and the French expeditonary force conducted itself well, but it was Washington’s forces that attracted most attention.

Developments in France Thus the focus of attention was not on France, as it was from 1792. Yet under the pressure of failure in the Seven Years’ War, it was in France that much rethinking took place. Those prominently involved had served in the war and their ideas reflected knowledge of contemporary military needs and potential. Jacques, Count Guibert (1743–93) had fought at Rossbach and Minden, and subsequently in the French occupation of Corsica (1768). In his Essai général de tactique (1772), Guibert advocated living off the land in order to increase the speed of operations, and the establishment of a patriotic citizen army. Under the Count of St. Germain, Minister of War 1775–7, Guibert reformed military practice. Napoleon praised Guibert s writings which, with their stress on movement and enveloping manoeuvres and their criticism of reliance on fortifications, prefigured his generalship.7 Other French generals were more specific. Pierre Bourçet pioneered the use of accurate maps in staffwork and in his Les principes de la guerre de montagnes, a privately circulated work of 1775, stressed the value of maps and set out a practice of alpine warfare that appears to have influenced Napoleon’s campaign in the reg ion. 8 There was also interest in the development of the division, a unit composed of elements of all arms and therefore able to operate independently. Such a unit could serve effectively both as a detached force and as part of a co-ordinated army operating in 153

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accordance with a strategic plan. The divisional system evolved from 1759, and in 1787–8 army administration was rearranged along divisional lines: twenty divisions were created in 1788. The system gave generals the potential to control much larger armies than the 60,000–70,000 men that had been considered the maximum effective force in mid-century Louis-Alexandre Berthier acted as chief of staff at the camp of Saint Omer in 1788. It has been claimed that “with mapping, skilled staff officers, written orders, and a divisional structure, the French were in a position by 1788 to surpass older limits on the effective size of field armies”.9 In 1758 Belle-Isle, the new war minister, regulated military pay and demanded that generals act in a more martial fashion: encamping with their troops and wearing proper uniforms. There was much discussion of tactical questions, and in particular over the rival merits of line and column formations. In contrast to the customary emphasis on firepower and linear tactics, Chevalier Jean-Charles de Folard and Baron François-Jean de Mesnil-Durand emphasized the shock and weight of a force attacking in columns: ordre profond, not ordre mince. Manoeuvres in 1778 designed to test the rival systems failed to settle the controversy, but the new tactical manual issued in 1791 incorporated both.10 Another veteran of the Seven Years’ War, Jean de Gribeauval (1715–89), who then served in the Austrian artillery, standardized the French artillery, with 8-gun batteries and 4-, 8- and 12-pound cannon and 6-inch howitzers. Mobility was increased by stronger, larger wheels, thanks to shorter barrels and lighter-weight cannon, and better casting methods. Accuracy was improved by better sights, the issue of gunnery tables and the introduction of inclinationmarkers. The rate of fire rose through the introduction of prepackaged rounds.11 In 1762 Choiseul sought to reform military administration in order to remove the need to support the costs of units by relying on the credit of their officers. The number of units was fixed, recruiting was transferred to royal agents, and soldiers took an oath of loyalty directly to the king. Under SaintGermain, the number of officers was cut and the venality of military offices suppressed. The cavalry was reorganized in 1788.12 Reform was not restricted to the army. There was a significant increase in naval strength in the 1760s, late 1770s and 1780s. Under Charles, Marquis de Castries, naval minister during 1780–7, the conscription, organization and administration of the navy were reformed, armaments and vessels standardized, naval colleges founded, and harbours improved. Much expenditure was devoted to the construction of a major naval base at Cherbourg. In 1786 standard designs were introduced for 74- and 80-gun ships of the line.13 The financial problems of France led, however, to a serious fall in expenditure on both army and navy, exacerbating the consequences of demobilization after the War of American Independence; with serious consequences for morale.14 154

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Elsewhere in Europe there were other state-directed initiatives designed to increase military effectiveness. As with Choiseul’s reforms, many sought to increase central control, albeit within the constraints created by the reality and ideology of continued aristocratic hegemony In Austria the emphases of the interwar period were maintained: the system of military entrepreneurship centred on colonel-propr ietors was qualified by a greater stress on governmental control and the growth of professionalism.

The conquest of Corsica 1768–9 While the use to which the Revolutionaries were to put the French army lay in the future, in 1768–9 the French had an experience of the problems and passion of popular warfare. In 1768 the Choiseul ministry purchased the island of Corsica from the Republic of Genoa. Much of the Corsican population, however, had long been rebellious, and in 1768 French occupation was resisted. French over-confidence and poor planning, and Corsican resolve, knowledge of the terrain and fighting qualities led to defeat for the French at the battle of Borgo (5–9 October 1768). The attempt to relieve the surrounded French garrison at Borgo was repulsed, as were the garrison’s attempts to break out, and on 10 October the garrison of 530, plus 20 cannons, surrendered. Later in the year, the French forces, suffering constant harassment from the Corsicans under Pasquale Paoli, were driven back. In early 1769 French forces were increased to 24,000, and their already-active programme on road construction on the island was stepped up. At a Consulte held that March in Casinca, the Corsicans responded by requiring all able-bodied men between 16 and 60 to serve in the nation’s defence and by voting to defend themselves until death. The French, under the Comte de Vaux, planned a co-ordinated three-pronged attack, which engaged Paoli while threatening his line of retreat. Paoli responded at the battle of Ponte-Nuovo on 8 May by attacking part ofVaux’s force, only to be caught in a heavy crossfire from other French units. Paoli s defeat with heavy casualties was followed by his retreat through Corsica and flight abroad on 13 June. Guerrilla-type resistance continued, and the French responded with devastation, terror and road construction. Those found carrying arms were killed, and by the spring of 1770 Corsica had been subdued.15 Although the forces involved were relatively small, the Corsican campaign was important for a number of reasons. It had an influence on the development of French military thinking. Bourçet advised Vaux, while Napoleon studied the campaign and was shown the battlefield of Ponte-Nuovo by Paoli. More 155

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generally, the campaign, like the successful expulsion of Austrian forces by the Genoese in 1746 and their subsequent resistance, indicated the strength of determined popular action. The 1769 campaign also showed, like that of 1746 in Scotland, that irregular forces could be defeated by superior firepower, especially if they attacked prepared opponents. Furthermore, it indicated the potential of co-ordinated independent forces operating against irregulars. The Corsican campaigns also demonstrated the strength of major states. France could mount the logistical effort required to deploy a considerable force on an island where provisions were in short supply. She could also sustain defeat and yet return to the attack, proceeding systematically to obtain a planned military outcome. The construction of roads was symptomatic of the entire process. The French army had the engineering skill and manpower to create roads that could serve direct military purposes—the movement of men and, more crucially, artillery and wagon-borne supplies—as well as extend the range of routine authority. Similarly, the new Hanoverian regime had constructed roads in the Scottish Highlands in the 1720s and, after the suppression of the ’45, orders were given for the completion of the road from Dumbarton to the Western Isles as soon as possible. Corsica was incorporated into France, making a French subject of Napoleoni di Buoneparte, who was bor n at Ajaccio in 1769. French administrators produced the Plan terrier, a blueprint for the social and economic development of the island. The notion of planned, state-directed change and regularized authority was one that had increasing impact in late-eighteenthcentury Europe. Applied to the armed forces, these notions entailed more government control over promotions and more regularized and “bureaucratic” administrative procedures. Armed force was also used to give weight to governmental pressure for change. In 1763 Guillaume duTillot, the leading minister in the duchy of Parma, organized a small expedition against Mezzano, an episcopal fief whose population resisted integration with the duchy. In 1767–8 he took analogous police measures over the Corti di Monchio, a mountainous region on the Parmesan-Tuscan frontier, where the privileges and immunities of the local ecclesiastical lord had also created difficulties, as the area contained many deserters and smugglers. Growing interest in and conviction of the value of state-directed planned change was related to an accentuation of traditional hostility not only towards individuals, groups and areas under limited central control, but also towards non-European societies. In place of the wisdom and majesty of the Orient and a degree of respect for Asiatic societies, there was increased contempt, stemming from a sense of non-European societies as being unenlightened.

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The Russo-Turkish war of 1768–1774 This definitely played a rôle in the Russian conviction that driving back the Turks would serve not only their own interests but those of civilization as well; although, at the same time, Western Europeans thought of the Russians as barbarians, mainly because of the Cossack light cavalry that they employed. The Russo-Turkish way of 1768–74 was dominated by Count Peter Rumyantsev (1725–96), who had played a major rôle in the Seven Years’ War. He replaced Prince Alexander Golitsyn, who had advanced to the Upper Dniester in 1769, capturing Kamenets Podolsk, Khotin and Jassy. Greatly influenced by Frederick II, Rumyantsev was a firm believer in the offensive. He sought to adapt contemporary techniques to the particular problems of fighting the Turks. On the battlefield, Rumyantsev organized the infantry into oblongs able to advance independently and yet to offer mutual support with their concerted attacks on the Turks. The oblongs included mobile artillery and relied on firepower to repel Turkish assaults. The Russians were able to operate effectively on the battlefield, successfully storming the main Turkish positions at the battles of Ryabaya Mogila, Larga and Kagul (1770). These marked Rumyantsev’s victorious advance down the Pruth to the lower Danube. He then captured rapidly Izmail, Kilia, Akkerman and Braila. The Grand Vizier, Mehmet Emin Pasa, lacked military competence and was unable to arrange for adequate supplies or to pay for the army. Azov and Taganrog had fallen to separate Russian forces in 1769, Bender was stormed in 1770, and the Crimea overrun in 1771. In the final campaign of the war, in 1774, the Russians advanced across the Danube, defeating a substantially larger Turkish force at Kozludzhi and leading the Turks hastily to make peace.16 The Russians had therefore been able to operate further south and with greater success than earlier in the century. Combined with the deployment of a Russian fleet in the Mediterranean in 1769 and with Russia’s rôle in the First Partition of Poland (1772), which took the Russian frontier westwards, these successes created great alarm about her strength and intentions. At Chesmé near Chios (1770) poor Turkish tactics and manoeuvring, and the subsequent use of Russian fireships, resulted in the destruction of the entire Turkish fleet. However, Russian attempts to capture Lemnos and Rhodes were unsuccessful, and, without promised Russian support, the Greek rising that Catherine II had hoped for was suppressed by the Turks in 1771. By the treaty of Kutchuk-Kainardji of 21 July 1774 with the Turks, Russia gained several Crimean fortresses and territory to the north of the Black Sea and in the Caucasus; was allowed to fortify Azov; was permitted to navigate on the Black Sea; and also to send merchant vessels through the Dardanelles. Sir James Porter, a former British envoy in Constantinople, remarked in October 157

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1774 that the new Russian possessions in the Crimea “will hold any navy in Europe…they may soon have one superior to the Turks in which case with a fresh north-east wind they may be masters of Constantinople in 48 hours”.17 The war had amply demonstrated Russia’s military prowess and thus began the “eastern question”: the issue of the fate of the Turkish empire.

The War of American Independence 1775–83 The first major revolutionary conflict arose from the successful overthrow of British authority in the Thirteen Colonies. It is worthy of attention in its own right, not least as a unique example of a transoceanic war fought by a European colonial power and subjects of European descent, and also as the first example of a major revolutionary struggle, one in which the notion of the citizenry under arms played a crucial rôle. Any stress on the difficulties confronting the British cannot detract from the immensity of the problems facing the revolutionaries. They were seeking to defeat a highly trained army backed up by both the largest navy in the world and the strongest system of public finance in Europe. They were supported by the Loyalists, about one-fifth of the population of the Thirteen Colonies, as well as by much of the population in nearby colonies: Canada, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Florida and the British possessions in the West Indies, all of which provided the British with bases. The Americans, however, were not without a considerable military tradition, born out of fighting both the American Indians and the Bourbons, and their success in both spheres had been considerable. Troops from New England had been responsible for the capture of Louisbourg in 1745. American troops had also played a prominent, although less happy, part in operations against Florida and other Spanish possessions in and around the Caribbean.18 Nevertheless, opposition to a standing army, British or their own, was part of the American ethos. The Americans were wedded to the seventeenthcentury English polemic against standing armies, a polemic long out of fashion or ignored in imperial Britain. They preferred the “privatization of violence” to government-controlled violence. There were therefore serious difficulties in creating, and still more in sustaining, a regular Continental Army, a force that would be under the control of the new government of the Thirteen Colonies, the Continental Congress, and that would face the British army in the field. This was a task for which the ill-equipped, untrained and disorganized state militias were poorly suited. Furthermore, the decision to emphasize the importance of a Continental Army represented the rejection of an alternative 158

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path of military development (one that would have centred on irregular warfare), which was advocated by Major-General Charles Lee but totally disregarded by conservative Americans,. The decision for a Continental Army symbolized the united nature of the struggle by the Thirteen Colonies and was a vital move in the effort to win foreign recognition and support. By having such an army, military decisions were in large part taken out of the ambit of state government. In theory, this made the planning of strategy easier, allowing generals to consider clashing demands for action and assistance, although in practice political interference was continuous. In addition, the new national army did not enjoy the support of a developed system for providing reinforcements and supplies, let alone the relatively sophisticated one that enabled the British armed forces to operate so far from their bases. The provision of manpower and supplies for the Continental Army created major logistical problems, preventing or hindering Amer ican operations and producing ser ious strains in the relationship between the new national government and the governments of the states. In light of the problem of inadequate overland transport, the inexperience of Revolutionary leaders in logistical questions, the lack of an adequate central executive authority or centralized government machinery, the rivalries between the colonies and the active defence of local interests, logistical support was sometimes (when vigorously managed) adequate, but at other times (as a consequence of incompetence, inefficiency and selfishness) unsatisfactory. The commissary broke down almost completely in 1777–8. There were problems with personnel, transportation, and financial resources and organization, the last due to the governmental structure and the lack of an effective political organization and system of taxation; and to the mismanagement of the resources that existed. The appointment of Robert Mor r is as Super intendent of Finance in 1781 was impor tant for an improvement in American logistical effectiveness. Convinced that the system of procurement by purchasing commissar ies was inefficient, Mor r is introduced a new system of private contracting. 19 Manpower was a serious problem. Congress at first sought to create a broad-based army, with one-year terms of service: no one anticipated a long war. The British decision to send substantial reinforcements, the basis of Howe s army which seized New York in 1776, led Congress to vote to raise an army of 75,000 men. They were offered enlistments for the war, with the eventual reward of 100 acres and 20 dollars, or service for three years. At first voluntary enlistment sufficed, but eventually conscription had to be resorted to: drafts from the militia for a year’s service. Thus the states played a major rôle in raising troops. Because men could avoid service by paying a fine or 159

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providing a substitute, the rank and file were largely drawn from the poorer sections of the community; they sought material benefits, bounties and wages, rather than glory. There were never enough troops in the Continental Army and its size fluctuated greatly, causing Washington major problems; and the soldiers as well as sea-power of the French ally were crucial to victory in theYorktown campaign of 1781. Nevertheless, the Continental Army, poorly paid, clothed and fed, and demoralized, had by its very presence confined the scope of the Br itish militar y presence and operations in the middle colonies. The immobility and defensive posture of the bulk of the British forces in 1778–81 owed much to the French naval threat and to the caution of Sir Henry Clinton, the Br itish Commander-in-Chief, but it was also a consequence of Washington’s crucial ability to keep the Continental Army in the field and undefeated. This was of international consequence, given the importance of impressing foreign opinion, and one which would not have been obtained by irregular operations, however successful. The militia were, however, important, more so as the war in the south became more significant. Pressed for manpower as a consequence of the broadening of the conflict to include the French (1778), the Spanish (1779) and the Dutch (1780), the British placed a greater stress on Loyalist support and it was this that the militia, with their rôle in irregular warfare and political surveillance, intimidation and control, was best placed to prevent. Furthermore, the militia was well placed to seize what Nathanael Greene called “all their little outposts”20—the British positions that offered an appearance of control in the hinterlands of the well fortified posts. Operating as a home guard that could turn to guerilla action, the militia therefore counteracted the consequences of British success in field operations in the south. It is too easy to concentrate on the campaigns of the major armies and to lose sight of the degree to which local struggles, generally between Loyalists and Revolutionary militia, although sometimes also with the participation of regulars, affected the context within which these campaigns were conducted, not least by influencing the supply of provisions. The War of American Independence can be seen to be both revolutionary and traditional: revolutionary in that it was one of the first important instances of the “nation-in-arms”, and traditional in that it was essentially fought on terms that would have been familiar to those who had been engaged in recent conflicts in Europe and North America. The American response to battle was to adopt the lines of musketeers of European warfare. This was scarcely surprising as numerous Americans had served in the mid-century wars against the Bourbons, over 10,000 of them as regulars. Many others were familiar with the methods of European armies, especially the British army, through reading, observation or discussion. In America a more open, less packed, two-deep line 161

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of musketeers was adopted, because of the relative unimportance of cavalry. The transportation of horses posed major problems for the British, acquiring enough suitable mounts in America was not easy, and the Revolutionaries found that cavalry units were expensive; although many of their irregular units were mounted, for example the “over the mountain men” who rapidly concentrated against Patrick Ferguson and destroyed his force at King’s Mountain (1780). The infantry therefore dominated the battlefield in the middle colonies, although the potential impact of the trained British musketeers with the bayonets that inspired fear among the Americans was lessened by the ability of the latter to entrench themselves in strong positions. The value of such positions was amply demonstrated in the heavy casualties among the British attackers at the first major battle of the war, Bunker Hill (1775). The terrain of much of America was appropriate for such defences; and inappropriate for cavalry In place of the open farmland of much of the North European plain, there were narrow valley routes flanked by dense woodland, deep rivers with few crossing points, and in the north the omnipresent stone walls that created ready-made defensive positions. Howe and Clinton responded with flanking manoeuvres. Heavily encumbered British regular units, manoeuvring and fighting in their accustomed for mations, were not only vulnerable in the face of entrenched positions and unsuited to the heavily wooded and hilly terrain of the Canadian frontier; they were also not ideal for the vast expanses of the south. In that relatively sparsely populated region, supplies were harder to obtain and, aside from the ports, there were fewer places that it was crucial to hold and therefore less opportunity for positional warfare. American generals often used thin skirmish lines, night marches and hitand-run attacks, but Washington chose to fight essentially in a manner to which the British were accustomed; they were not obliged to rethink totally their way of fighting on the battlefield. This was in marked contrast to the unfamiliar logistical and political problems that were faced. The Hessian troops hired by the British were also flexible in their tactics, as at the battle of Long Island in 1776 where they advanced first in skirmishing order.21 This flexibility is not surprising. European manoeuvres were far less inflexible than the idealized pictures of rigid lines would suggest. Translated to America they brought success, strikingly so in 1776, and at the battle of Camden (1780) where the British fired accurately as they advanced. British regulars were also better at night-fighting than the Americans. The British fought to win, but generally cautious generalship and the absence of cavalry made it difficult to translate success in the field into overwhelming American losses, and these only occurred when the Revolutionaries held a position whence there was no route 162

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for retreat, as at Fort Washington in 1776 and Charleston in 1780. As the Revolutionaries became more accustomed to battlefield conditions, their ability to repel British attacks or to inflict serious casualties increased. Without reliable popular support, the British were obliged both to obtain the bulk of their supplies from Britain and to employ much of their army in garrison duty, an obligation made more necessary by the need to protect supply bases and the crucial trans-shipment points. Clinton argued in 1778: “provisions…we should never have less than six months in advance” and, as the French had joined the Americans, “always twelve…and if we lose one fleet of supply, adieu”.22 Thus, only a part of the army was available for operations, while the seizure of new posts, such as New York (1776) and Newport (1776), forced them to deploy still more of the troops as garrison units. This helps to account for the stress on a decisive battle, because it was only by destroying the American field armies that troops could be freed from garrison duty in order to extend the range of British control. America, even during the Revolutionary War, was a continental power: a maritime power, such as Britain, could raid, blockade, and even occupy strategic points such as New York or Charleston, but the issue was not going to be settled until an army was put ashore that could destroy the Continental Army and conquer much of the land itself, as happened to the South during the American Civil War and to Germany in 1945. Fleets with small armies could not do this kind of thing. The problem in the American War was to get the Americans to consent to rule by London. Any policy or strategy which did not destroy George Washington’s army and conquer or intimidate the country, forcing consent on the Americans, would not have worked. By stressing the British need for decisive victory, a greater emphasis can be placed on American skill and determination in avoiding such a defeat. Much can doubtless be ascribed to British indecision and to generals who were insufficiently prepared to take risks, such as Howe, or who were too reckless, such as Burgoyne and Cornwallis, but there were major engagements and in these, after the campaign of 1776, whatever the fate of parts of the army, the main American force was not routed. The British were unable to exploit battlefield advantages, because of deficiencies on their part, principally caution, fatigue and the absence of cavalry, but also because of skilful American withdrawals and the toll inflicted in battle by the Americans, most obviously at Bunker Hill and Guilford. Although not a particularly good field general, Washington was an excellent leader and an able strategist. Following the disasters of 1776, he recognized that for many his army was the Revolution. Thereafter, he did not take risks unless success was all but guaranteed.23 American casualties were heavy. Although American fatalities in battle amounted to about 6,000, the number of probable deaths in service was over 163

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25,000, as a result of casualties in camp and among prisoners. This was 0.9 per cent of the population in 1780, compared to near 1.6 per cent for the Civil War, 0.12 per cent for the First World War and 0.28 per cent for the Second World War.24 The War of American Independence was not simply a struggle in the Thirteen Colonies. There were important hostilities elsewhere, both in North America and further afield, especially in the West Indies and India. British naval dominance and the weak state of the Continental Navy of the Revolutionaries, which was not large enough for fleet actions, ensured that the Americans could only project their power outside North America by privateering, a substantial nuisance but insufficiently so to threaten the structure of the British military system. After initial success, the American invasion of Canada in 1775–6 was a total failure, owing to scant local support, dependence on distant sources of supply and determined British resistance at Quebec until the arrival of a British relief force up the St. Lawrence river system. Once the Americans were driven back in 1776 the population rallied to the British. The British were less successful on the Gulf of Mexico, where a superior Spanish force, supported by naval units based on Havana and well led by Bernardo de Gálvez, captured the British forts at Baton Rouge (1779), Mobile (1780) and Pensacola (1781).25 After the Bourbons entered the war, the struggle became truly global. Minorca (1782) fell as a result of Britain s loss of control of the Western Mediterranean, the superior artillery of the Spanish invasion force, and sickness among the British garrison;26 and a number of West Indian islands were lost. Nevertheless, the Bourbon attempt to invade southern England in 1779 failed, due to poor leadership, disease and inadequate supplies, rather than the efforts of the British navy.27 Gibraltar successfully resisted a long siege in 1779–83. Its three reliefs, like that of Quebec, underlined the crucial rôle of naval support, a point further emphasized when French superiority in American waters forced the blockaded Cornwallis to surrender atYorktown on 18 October 1781, the biggest humiliation of British military power until the surrender of Singapore in 1942. Similarly, Coote wrote from southern India: I wish most anxiously for intelligence of the Admiral and the Fleet being again upon the Coast, as I should hope thereby to have it in my power to move to the southward, as a supply of provisions might then be sent me by sea without which I could not in the present position of Haidar [Ali of Mysore] and the French undertake such an operation to its full extent, at least with that degree of security so necessary to the preservation of our real interests. Nevertheless, although the French squadron underVice-Admiral Suffren, and 164

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France’s ally, Haidar Ali of Mysore, had a number of successes, the British were not driven from India,28 while Rodney’s victory at the Saints on 12 April 1782 led the Bourbons to abandon their plan for a joint attack on Jamaica. The War of American Independence destroyed the political unity of the English-speaking world and was a major defeat for Britain. It also revealed the crucial basis of military power. Diplomatically isolated, Britain nevertheless had the resources and her government the ability to raise loans to sustain a major struggle. The national debt rose from £131 million in 1775 to £232 million in 1783. By the end of the war, Britain was winning the naval race with France and planning amphibious attacks on the Spanish empire. The global military reach of the most powerful of the European oceanic powers was to be further demonstrated in the postwar world with the foundation of a colony in Australia (1788) and preparations for a major war with Spain in 1790.

War in Europe 1787–91 The European crisis touched off by the Turkish declaration of war on Russia in 1787 was to lead also to conflict between Austria andTurkey (1788–90), Sweden and Russia (1788–90) and Sweden and Denmark (1788), as well as to Prussian preparations for war with Austria and Russia. The crisis also led to the Russian invasion of Poland in 1792 that was a prelude to the Second Partition of that state. The warfare of these years was dominated by Russia. Catherine II (the Great’s) forces were more successful than those of Joseph II against the Turks, and were able, albeit with some difficulty, to sustain war on two fronts— against the Turks and against Gustavus III of Sweden. In addition, Catherine was not intimidated when threatened in 1791 by Anglo-Prussian military action in order to force her to accept only modest territorial gains from the Turks. The most spectacular Russian successes were against the Turks. Victories in battle relying on firepower and the square formation, such as Fokshany (1789), Martinishtje (1789) and Machin (1791), were accompanied by the storming of major Turkish fortresses, especially Ochakov (1788) and Izmail (1790). In the last, the ditches were filled and the walls scaled by ladders, as if Suvorov was operating in the pre-gunpowder age: more than a third of the Russian force, and two-thirds of their officers, were either killed or wounded.29 The Turks had begun the war, aiming to seize Kinburn and Kherson, to reconquer the Crimea and to instigate rebellion in the Kuban. Turkish amphibious attacks on Kinburn in 1787 were, however, thwarted in hand-to-hand fighting. In 1788 the Russians moved to the attack, focusing on the powerful fortress of Ochakov. 165

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Catherine s favourite, Prince Potemkin, led the besieging army, while bitter naval struggles took place offshore as the Russians struggled to create an effective blockade. After lengthy bombardment, Ockakov was stormed. In 1789, the main Russian army, under Potemkin, advanced to the Dniester with naval support, capturing Gadzhibey, Akkerman and Bender. In 1790 the Russian Black Sea fleet defeated its Turkish rival, while the Russians cleared the forts on the Danube delta, capturing Kilia, Tul’cha, Izalchi and Izmail. In 1791 the Russians advanced south of the Danube, defeating the Turks at Babadag and Machin. Anapa, the Turkish base in the Kuban, was also captured. By the Treaty of Jassy (1792), the Turks recognized the Russian annexation of the Crimea in 1783, and yielded Ochakov and the territory between the rivers Dniester and Bug. There was nothing comparable on land in the war with Sweden; but a series of hard-fought struggles in the Baltic thwarted Gustavus and led him to peace. Gustavus invaded Russian Finland in 1788, bombarded Fredrikshamn and unsuccessfully besieged Nyslott, before retreating in the face of political hostility on the part of his own officers. At sea, however, thanks to new types of vessel developed in the 1760s and 1770s, especially versatile oared gunboats, as well as ships of the line built in the 1780s, Sweden was a formidable challenge. A drawn battle off Hogland in the Gulf of Finland on 17 July 1788, in which the Swedes were hindered by ammunition shortages, denied Gustavus the crucial control of the Gulf which he needed both for his military operations in Finland and if he was to carry out an amphibious attack on St. Petersburg. Gustavus s attempt to seize St. Petersburg in 1790 was similarly unsuccessful, attacks on Russian squadrons on 2 and 4 May, the second under the personal command of Gustavus, both failing. A major engagement in the Gulf of Finland on 23 May was inconclusive. The Swedish cannon had been heard in St. Petersburg, but after the battle the Russians were able to blockade the Swedes in Vyborg. On 28 June a major galley engagement took place off Sveaborg. The Russians were defeated, but the cumulative toll of recent battles on the Swedish fleet was considerable and Gustavus felt obliged to negotiate peace. His forces have been seen as crucially lacking in tactical training in offensive warfare.30 Unfortunately for the Swedes, unlike in 1769–70, the Russian Baltic fleet had not sailed to the Mediterranean, in large part because the British had refused to provide the supply facilities they had offered on the earlier ocasion. In large part due to disease and logistical problems, the Austrians had little success in 1788. An attempt to surprise Belgrade was unsuccessful, the Austrians losing their way in fog. Deploying 140,000 troops, they hoped to conquer Serbia, Moldavia, Wallachia and most of Bosnia, but the Turks had concentrated their efforts against them, and not, as the Austrians hoped, against their Russian allies. Joseph II proved a poor Commander-in-Chief, disease debilitated the 166

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Austrians, and the Turks were able to put them on to the defensive. Invading the Banat in August, the Turks defeated the Austrians at Slatina on 20 September: Joseph only just escaped. They were finally stopped because of their own supply problems, rather than Austrian resistance. Helped by the Hospodar of Moldavia, the Austrian army in Bukovina was more successful and captured Khotin. In 1789 the Austrians had much more success. In place of the linear tactics they had adopted against the Turks in 1737–9, they now used infantry squares arranged so as to offer mutual support. This brought success at the battle of Mehadia (23 August 1789). 31 This victory was followed by the successful siege of Belgrade, the city finally surrendering after a particularly heavy bombardment. Bucharest fell soon afterwards and the Austrians occupied Serbia. Turkish defeats led the new Sultan, Selim III, to step up his predecessor’s interest in adopting western military technology, and introducing Western-style “order”. He also developed a new force, the Nizam-i Cedid (new order army), organized on European lines and armed accordingly, as Sahin Giray, Khan of the Crimea, had sought to do in the 1770s;32 but already the suppositions of European warfare were being challenged by the success of Revolutionary France.

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Chapter Seven Warfare in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic age 1792–1815

Revolutionary warfare The extent to which the French Revolution led to a new age of European warfare has been a matter of controversy. Revolutionary and Napoleonic warfare can be seen in eighteenth-century terms in that there was scant novelty in the technology of war and the weaponry of battle. Furthermore, the tactical and strategic features associated with the French—a determination to win, a war of manoeuvre, enveloping strategic movements, and attack in column on the battlefield—were far less novel than is commonly argued. On the other hand, the popular enthusiasm displayed in 1792, the degree of mobilization for war displayed by Revolutionary France from 1793, the large numbers of men raised for the Revolutionary armies, and the enormous war effort made by Napoleonic France and its opponents, were recognizably different in type to the serious and sustained efforts that had been made in recent European conflicts. In his painting Marius Returning to Rome (1789), Baron François-Pascal-Simon Gérard prefigured the iron determination of Revolutionary violence. A demonic Marius leads a column of troops with heads on their spears, civilians are being slaughtered and there is terror on the face of the people. By the autumn of 1794 the theoretical size of the French army was 1,169,000, its real size probably 730,000, the largest army France had ever fielded. The domestic context in France was in some respects reminiscent of the urgency, energy and determination with which Peter the Great had tried to change Russian society under the impetus of initial defeat at the hands of Sweden, but French developments in the 1790s were not dependent on one man: there were important socio-political changes. The Revolution created an 168

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officer-class dominated by talent and connections as opposed to birth and connections, although the election of officers was rapidly abandoned. The Revolutionary military effort was in part supported by exactions from conquered areas, but the reorganization of French society also produced more resources. It was a reorganization based on necessity and the forceful implementation of a revolutionary ideology. Initially, the Revolution had crippled the French army and navy, although both had already suffered from the pre-revolutionary financial crisis of the French state. In 1789–91 they had been badly affected by the political struggles convulsing France. The majority of officers fled France, while the armed forces had been affected by mutiny (particularly at Nancy in 1790), the breakdown of discipline, financial problems and a cr isis of rôle. Traditional links and hierarchies were broken. In 1791, for example, the names traditionally used for regiments were replaced by numbers.1 The impact of the Revolution was first revealed in 1790 when Spain sought French military aid against the threat of war with Britain over trading and settlement rights on the Pacific Coast of modern Canada. The French government decided to arm 14 ships of the line, but the impact was greatly lessened by the resolution of the National Assembly on 22 May 1790 that the king could not declare war without its approval. Bitter debates reflected a profound division as to the nature of the political community, centring on the struggle between different ideas about the relationship between crown and nation, which developed into a clash of royal versus national sovereignty, with particular reference to the right of declaring war. This appeared to demonstrate that not only France’s strength, but also her very process of declaring war, had been changed dramatically by the Revolution. Revolutionary unpredictability was demonstrated on 26 August 1790 when the National Assembly decided to press Louis XVI to negotiate a “national treaty” between France and Spain and to authorize the arming of 45 ships of the line and a proportionate number of frigates. The British government was, however, rightly sceptical about France’s ability to mount such an armament. Apart from serious financial problems, there was also discontent in the major dockyard at Brest while the nature of revolutionary politics allowed British agents to make approaches to French politicians in order to dissuade them from acting. By the winter of 1791–2 France appeared even more unstable and her ability to survive a war more uncertain. The Emperor Leopold II responded to threats of French action against neighbouring German states that harboured French royalists by threatening military action, and the National Assembly, fired by revolutionary enthusiasm, declared war on Austria on 20 April 1792. Initially the campaign appeared to vindicate assumptions about France’s military position. French troops advanced towards Tournai on 28 April, but they 169

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withdrew in a disorderly fashion in the face of an Austrian unit and murdered their commander, General Théobald Dillon. A force sent on 29 April to attack Mons also turned back and retreated in panic. In June, the Armée du Nord tried again, capturing Menin and Courtrai on 19 June, only to abandon them both on 30 June as it retired to Lille in the face of a mobile Austrian response.2 With inadequate forces, the Austrians besieged Lille unsuccessfully, but the major invasion of France in 1792 was mounted by the Prussians under the Duke of Brunswick, a veteran of Frederick II’s wars. Robert Banks Jenkinson (later, as 2nd Earl of Liverpool, head of the British ministry at the time of the Battle ofWaterloo) saw the review of the Prussian troops at Koblenz, and wrote “the celerity and precision with which all their movements are performed, are inconceivable to those who have not seen them. Every operation they go through is mechanical”.3 The Prussians crossed the French frontier on 19 August, and the frontier fortresses fell rapidly. Civilian pressure on the garrisons led to the surrender of Longwy on 23 August and Verdun on 3 September.4 The French commander, the Marquis de Lafayette, fled to the Allies, having failed to persuade his troops to take an oath to Louis XVI. The Revolution seemed both threatened and betrayed. On 28 August and 2 September Georges Danton, an influential Revolutionary leader, called on the Assembly for war en masse. As fear gripped Paris, suspected royalists were massacred in the September Massacres. Even before serious hostilities began there was a sense that this was to be a different conflict because of the ideological gulf separating the two sides, and that this would require new military measures. William, Lord Auckland, a senior British diplomat, wrote to his brother: if war must be made, and particularly against the French in a state of internal and general frenzy, I believe it to be expedient and conducive to the ultimate purpose of Humanity not to make it with the courtesies of the age as we did in America to a degree which caused the loss of the colonies…the French troops, however despicable they may be in point of discipline and command, are earnest in the support of the wicked and calamitous cause in which they are engaged… I sincerely hope that it may be a plan rigorously observed, to disarm every place and district through which the troops may pass; to destroy the arms, to dismantle the fortresses, to demolish the cannon, powder mills etc, and all forges for arms etc and to issue a notice that any place or district found a second time in arms shall be subject to military execution… if neglected, there is reason to believe that the impression of the interference will at best be transitory.5 Brunswick’s progress was, however, slow. He encountered serious problems 170

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with the intractable terrain of the Argonne, with logistics, with the effect of rain on the roads, and with sickness, especially dysentery, in his army. More seriously, French resistance did not collapse, as that of the Dutch Patriots had done in 1787. Brunswick’s army was not prepared for a major campaign and it was arguably too late in the year to attempt one. Thus the very fact of French resistance, irrespective of its seriousness, was sufficient to check Brunswick, an echo of Washington s success in thwarting British strategy by keeping the Continental Army in being. On 20 September 1792 atValmy, about 108 miles from Paris, Brunswick, his force outnumbered by about 34,000 to 52,000, turned back without a full-scale engagement. There was little hand-to-hand fighting; the French artillery (the branch of the French army least affected by revolutionary disruption) decided the day; and the Prussians failed to dislodge the French defenders. Brunswick did not wholeheartedly approve of the operation and did not press home the attack with great vigour.6 Elsewhere the French advanced with great rapidity. On 22 September 1792 the Army of the Alps under Montesquiou invaded Savoy, seizing Montmélian. The poorly prepared, outnumbered and dispersed defenders retreated in confusion across the Alps into Piedmont, and on 24 September the French occupied Chambéry. Forces under Adam Custine advanced on Brunswick’s flank and overran the middle Rhine. Speyer fell on 30 September, followed by Worms (4 October), Mainz (21 October) and Frankfurt (22 October). On 3 November Charles Dumouriez and the Armée du Nord invaded the Austrian Netherlands. Three days later, at Jemappes, near Mons, the French, with an army of 45,000, defeated the main Austrian field force in the region, an army of only 13,200, an example of what the British Foreign Secretary, Lord Grenville, termed “the amazing superiority of [French] numbers”.7 After a lengthy cannonade by the greatly superior, massed French artillery, the initial French advances were checked by Austrian firepower and cavalry, but the French then attacked again, saturating the defence with two massive formations. French canister shot caused the heaviest Austrian casualties.8 The French were able to advance in columns and get back into line at close range; although such a manoeuvre was far from easy when under fire. Their combination of artillery, skirmishers (tirailleurs) and assault columns was a potent one. The Austrian Netherlands were to fall far more rapidly than when previously attacked by the French in 1744. The defeated defending army, poorly led by Duke Albert of Saxe-Teschen, an uncle by marriage of the Emperor, retreated towards the Rhineland. Brussels fell on 13 November, Ostend on 16 November. Only isolated posts, principally the citadels in Antwerp and Namur, were left. They surrendered on 29 November and 2 December respectively. The campaign of 1792 demonstrated a number of features of European 171

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warfare that were to be characteristic of the period up to 1815. Battles were generally more important than sieges. After Valmy, Brunswick retreated, ending the siege of Thionville and abandoning Longwy and Verdun. However, the career of Napoleon himself, most clearly at Toulon (1793), Mantua (1796–7) and Acre (1798), shows that sieges could still be as important as battles. Clearly, much depended upon the particular theatre of operations: sieges still remained important in the Peninsular War. In contrast, they played a much smaller rôle in conflict in central Europe; although even there they could be important, as with the successful French siege of Prussian-held Danzig in 1807. Speed was another feature of campaigning, especially of French advances from 1792, and Napoleon was a beneficiary, not an initiator, of this change. The battlefield use of artillery, by both attacking and defending armies, was of great importance. There was an increased use and massing of artillery on battlefields, and artillery was beginning to dominate battlefields in a way it had not done before. Ruthless cavalry follow-ups after victory were also important in consolidating success, as after Napoleon’s victory over the Prussians at Jena (1806), while conversely his lack of cavalry, after the unsuccessful invasion of Russia in 1812, was partly responsible for the failure to exploit his victories in 1813, for example Lützen. As already indicated by the discussion of European warfare in the period 1660–1791, it is, however, far from clear that these changes should be seen as novel. They represented a continuation of already clear tendencies, as with the increased battlefield use of artillery. If French forces advanced rapidly in 1792 they had also done so in 1672 and 1741. What was most different was the political context and this played a key rôle in the marked increase in French numbers. Other radical political movements had been overthrown by ancien régime armies: the Dutch Patriots by the Prussians in 1787; those in the Austrian Netherlands and the bishopric of Liège by the Austrians and Prussians in 1790; a radical movement in the Prince-Bishopric of Basle by the Austrians in 1791; the Poles by the Prussians and Russians in 1794; and the Irish by the British in 1798. Radical fervour and the notion of a people’s war were no guarantee of military success. France was not united against its foreign enemies, but riven by civil division and conflict, as Poland had been in earlier episodes of apparent popular national unity against a foreign foe, such as the anti-Russian Confederation of Bar in 1768, while at least 20 per cent of the population of the Thirteen Colonies were loyalists dur ing the War of Amer ican Independence. However, the vigorous and uncompromising response of the Parisians to domestic opponents, and the failure of the latter to unite behind a common strategy settled the fate of France, while her foreign foes were 172

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diverted in the crucial early years of the war by Poland, which was partitioned for a second time in 1793 and a third, destroying her independence, in 1795. Whereas in 1735 and 1748 Russian troops had moved towards the Rhine in order to block any danger of the French overrunning Germany, in 1794 Suvorov’s army was storming Praga, creating in that suburb ofWarsaw scenes of carnage reminiscent of the worst outrages in the Thirty Years’ War. Despite the failure of the Polish insurrection of 1794, it revealed the military potential of popular political consciousness. An Act of Confederation issued on 24 March in Cracow called all citizens to arms. Local authorities required all men between 18 and 40 to drill every Sunday. The townspeople of Warsaw played a major rôle in expelling the Russian garrison during bitter street fighting on 17–18 April. Local militias played a major rôle in the war, mostly by hampering enemy communications. This led to the relief of the first siege of Warsaw. The regular army also fought well. Emergency taxes enabled an increase to 72,000 men, and a munitions industry was rapidly improvised, although many had to fight with scythes or pikes. In the first battle, Raclawice on 4 April 1794, the Russians were defeated by a charge of peasant scythe-men supported by line infantry. At Szczekociny (6 June), however, the Polish commanderTadeusz Kosciuszko was defeated by a Russo-Prussian force that outnumbered him almost two to one, and at Maciejowice (10 October) the heavily outnumbered Poles were again defeated, with half their army killed or captured. The storming of Praga (4 November), in which 9,000 soldiers and 7,000 civilians were slaughtered, was followed by the capitulation of Warsaw.9 The fate of Poland clearly demonstrated another lesson of the 1792 campaign, namely the crucial rôle of numbers. This was important for both tactical and strategic reasons. The characteristic battlefield manoeuvre of French Revolutionary forces was the attack in independent columns. This was the most effective way to use the mass of inexperienced soldiers, recruited in the 1790s, although the Réglements (regulations) of 1791 also reflected preRevolutionary discussions about tactics and, in particular, Guibert’s stress on the flexible use of column or line as judged appropriate. This was particularly successful against the Austrian “cordon” system of strung-out defensive forces. It is necessary, however, to distinguish between shallow columns and deep columns, and columns of manoeuvre and columns of attack. The French Revolutionary armies did not apply these principles in practice zealously, for levels of training suffered in the early 1790s, especially with the new armies, and everything tended to break down when combat began; but there is a need for a distinction between the image of some enormously long and deep formation, with men packed tightly together, and, what was probably more common: a less coherent and less dense formation. 173

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Nevertheless, in general, column attacks reflected and required substantial numbers of troops. Some French columns were 5,000 strong. So also did the large number of separate armies that the French deployed, and the various divisions of individual armies. The latter were required for the strategy of envelopment, encirclement and convergence that was so important for Napoleonic warfare, the former so that France could operate on the series of fronts that the number of her opponents required. The greater dispersal of units ensured that command and co-ordination skills became more important, and battles more common, while the use of the column helped to increase the offensive rôle of infantry. Large numbers of troops were provided, mainly thanks to the already substantial population of France, the most populous state in western Europe, and to the impact of the rise of population from the second half of the eighteenth century, and the increase in both France and the area under her control produced by Revolutionary and Napoleonic conquests. As a result, Napoleon raised 1.3 million conscripts in 1800–11 and 1 million in 1812–13 alone. This was a scale of operations that could sustain France as an aggressive military force. The substantial forces raised by the French, however, did not make victory inevitable. The conquest of the Austrian Netherlands was followed by its loss after defeat at Neerwinden (18 March 1793). The victorious Austrian commander, Pr ince Josias of Saxe-Coburg, did not, however, march on Paris, but rather sought the apparently surer capture of a major fortress that could also serve as a base. The campaign was frittered away in a series of sieges, and late in 1793 energetic French leaders, benefiting from the largely uncoordinated nature of their spread out opponents, drove the invaders back by achieving local concentrations of strength. Using his two-toone numerical advantage and at the cost of heavier casualties, Jean-Baptiste Jourdan, a private during the War of American Independence and later a draper, won the battle of Wattignies (15 and 16 October 1793) with a series of frontal attacks and the outflanking of the Austrian left. A former corporal, Lazare Hoche, in command of the Army of Moselle, stormed the lines of Förschweiler on 22 December, while on 19 December the French recaptured Toulon, which had risen for the Bourbons and admitted British and Spanish forces, after a siege in which the young Napoleon Bonaparte, an artillery captain, had distinguished himself. Meanwhile, the Spaniards had invaded Roussillon and won a number of victories, particularly at Trouillas, but, unable to bring up their siege train, had failed to besiege Perpignan. Thanks to the Réquisition Law of 23 August 1793, under which all ablebodied unmarried men between the ages of 18 and 25 were liable to service until the end of the war, the French armies were even larger in 1794. The soldiers were on average younger and less experienced than the pre174

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revolutionary army. Organized by Lazare Carnot, a former captain of engineers and now the member of the Committee of Public Safety responsible for military affairs, the French responded vigorously to the Allied attempt to invade. Their mobile defence and the large number of casualties they inflicted on Coburg’s poorly co-ordinated attacking formations at Fleurus (26 June 1794) led the Austrians to fall back. At the same time, Jeanbon Saint-André was sent by the Committee to restore order among the French Atlantic fleet which had mutinied in Quiberon Bay in September 1793. He did so, purging the navy, and pressing ahead with the construction of new vessels and the levy of men so that an effective force could engage the British by the summer of 1794.10 On land, as their units became more trained, the supply of equipment improved and vigorous generals rose to the fore, the French forces were steadily more effective. In tactical terms they were helped by a turn towards light infantry, so that a substantial force of skirmishers, using individually aimed fire, weakened the opposing lines before the French attack. It has recently been argued that the “French could adopt a greater range of tactics than commonly believed because they were better trained and better led than [is] normally recognized”. In the fighting in the Low Countries the French benefited from Joseph II’s demolition of many of the Barrier fortifications in 1781, from the tactical conservatism of their opponents, their emphasis on traditional closeorder linear formations which were vulnerable not only to French soldiers relying on individually aimed fire and operating in open order, but also to the impressive French battlefield artillery.11 In one such episode near Tournai in 1793 the devastating nature of artillery fire, the folly of close-order formations and the impact of battle on morale and discipline, were all demonstrated: The [Coldstream] Guards marched in excellent order through the wood keeping as good a line as their situation would permit…the masked battery of the French (of which the Guards were completely ignorant) commenced the heaviest firing of grape shot…within 30 yards… The fire was so sudden that almost every man by one impulse fell to the ground— but immediately got up and began a confused fire without orders—The second discharge of the French knocked down whole ranks—The officers upon this exerted themselves to make the men come to charge…but all was in vain. The soldiers on their knees kept on firing and would have remained so till all were killed [had they not retreated]…as the Prussians observed what business had the Guards in the wood when it was only the duty of light infantry and riflemen.12 The larger French forces were also able to go on to the offensive against Spain, pushing the outnumbered, poorly led, tactically conservative and poorly 175

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supplied Spaniards out of Roussillon and making gains in Catalonia and Guipúzcoa in 1794 before seizing Bilbao andVitoria in 1795. Carnot reorganized the revolutionary armies making them more effective forces. He improved their equipment, artillery and staff organization, and ended the election of officers, thus playing a major part in creating the army that Napoleon used to such effect.13 After Fleurus, the French moved into the United Provinces, and once the rivers had frozen they overran the rest of the state. Undaunted by the weather, on 20 January 1795 Charles Pichegru, a lieutenant colonel of artillery in the army of Louis XVI, entered Amsterdam at the head of the Army of the North. This was a target that had eluded previous French rulers. Convinced that France could not be defeated, Prussia and Spain made peace that year. The remaining campaigns of the Revolutionary war saw the French rely less on militancy and more on obedience,14 less on revolutionary zeal than on skilled generalship to exploit their manpower. Admiral Truquet, Minister of the Marine from 1795, reversed some of the impact of the Revolution on the navy. The Austrians, especially in Germany in 1796 under the Emperor Francis II’s brother, Archduke Charles, proved tough opponents. Charles pressed for a more vigorous strategy, but, although successful in clearing Ger many, he was thwarted by divisions among the factious Austrian generals and by a lack of firm support from Francis. Napoleon, the new commander of the Army of Italy, developed in 1796 the characteristics of his generalship: self-confidence, swift decision-making, rapid mobility, the concentration of strength and where possible the exploitation of inter ior lines. Victory at Mondovi (27 Apr il) by French columns over outnumbered defenders knocked Sardinia out of the war with the Armistice of Cherasco, while at Lodi (10 May), Bassano (8 September), Arcole (15–17 November) and Rivoli (14 January 1797), Napoleon’s ruthless boldness and ability to manoeuvre on the battlefield brought victory over the Austrians. His siting of the artillery was particularly important at Lodi.15 The Treaty of Campo Formio (1797) brought peace with France dominant in Lombardy and Austria ceding the Austrian Netherlands. The First Coalition of powers against Revolutionary/Napoleonic France collapsed.

The Anglo-French struggle Britain entered the war with Revolutionary France in 1793 and sent troops to campaign in the Low Countries, but neither then nor subsequently in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars prior to 1815 did they do so there to any 176

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effect. The British contingent was not large enough to make an appreciable contribution, their Austrian allies had different priorities and the British proved unable to cope with the problems of amphibious operations and the vigorous campaigning of the French, as their lack of success in the invasion of Holland in 1799 and the Walcheren expedition in 1809 revealed. In the 1790s the more important British contributions were financial—the provision of subsidies and loans—and naval. Much naval action was defensive—the prevention of enemy attack either by action, such as convoying merchantmen, or keeping squadrons at sea to discourage invasion attempts, or by the prospect of action. In 1798 Geoffrey Mowbray observed, “our navy keeps every one of our enemies bound in chains upon their own coasts”.16 It was impossible, because of the policy of open blockade (rather than the close blockade pioneered by Admiral Edward Hawke), to prevent the French from landing some troops in Wales (1797) and, more seriously, in Ireland (1798), but they were relatively small forces unable to deliver a knockout invasion, and the navy played a crucial rôle in 1805 when Napoleon assembled a large invasion force near Boulogne, only to find the British thwarting his plan for his navy to gain control of the Channel for long enough to permit a crossing. From the point of view of global history, it was the rôle of the navy in assisting Britain to defeat her European rivals that was of greatest consequence. Thus the limited impact of the navy in continental affairs that was to lead the Prime Minister Lord Palmerston to observe in 1864 that “ships sailing on the sea cannot stop armies on land”, was of less importance, given that the decisive struggles were not between Britain and indigenous states but between Britain and other colonial and trading powers that were similarly dependent on maritime links. This helps to account for the particular military problem that the American rebellion had posed, namely distant conflict with a locally based force that used European military technology, but whose dependence on maritime links with Europe was limited. In such a context, British naval power was of value, but far from decisive. The same was true of British conflicts with Indian opponents. However, the value of colonies and trading stations was largely a function of their ability to trade, and naval power was crucial to this, because of the maritime nature of western European colonization and longdistance commerce. The value of this trade, as a source of imports and reexports, employment, processing and profit, and as a market for exports could be huge. Thus, when Spain joined France in 1796, the British navy cut her links with her colonies. By 1815 the French, Spanish, Dutch and Danish fleets had been defeated by Britain, although at the time of his fall in 1814 Napoleon was building a substantial fleet and had 40 large warships under construction. Spanish 177

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America had, as before, presented a military challenge to Britain that was greater than anticipated and the attempt to establish a British presence in the Rio de la Plata failed in 1807 when it proved impossible to subdue Buenos Aires. Nevertheless, the French and Dutch empires had been emasculated as military and strategic threats, and the route to India had been secured. Cape Town had been captured from the Dutch in 1795 and, after its restoration in 1802, was captured again in 1806 after a conclusive victory at the battle of Blouberg. Thanks in large part to the British navy, especially Nelson’s victory at the Nile (1 August 1798), the French attempt to establish themselves in Egypt and Palestine failed, and they lost the Seychelles in 1794, Martinique in 1809 and Reunion and Mauritius in 1810. France’s largest overseas possession, the Louisiana territory, was sold to the United States of America in 1803. Naval supremacy not only allowed Britain to capture the bases of other colonial powers, but also to develop colonies in largely uninhabited areas, such as Australia, and to wage war with native rulers in India with only limited interference from other European powers. It was mainly as a result of the navy’s efforts that in 1815 so much of the European world outside the New World could be coloured red (as part of the British Empire) on the map. By 1815 the British had gained Malta, Tristan da Cunha, Ceylon, Ascension, Trinidad, Tobago and St. Lucia. Naval strength and colonial power were to be the basis of Britain’s ability to act as a world power in the nineteenth century. The consequences were to be crucial both for Britain and for many areas in the world. There was nothing inevitable about British victory in the colonial and transoceanic struggles. Although the French navy was gravely weakened by the Revolution, and the combination of revolutionary zeal and mobilization was less beneficial to the navy than to the army, victory on land brought France the support of other naval powers. During the War of American Independence the opposition of the other leading European naval powers had posed a major problem for Britain, not least because the threat of foreign invasion limited the British forces available for transoceanic operations. This was also true during the Napoleonic wars, but the British were helped by a number of victories in the 1790s. At the Glorious First of June (1 June 1794), Earl Howe attacked a French fleet sent to escort a grain convoy from America into Brest. Howe was unable fully to execute his plan for all his ships to cut the French line so that each passed under the stern of a French ship, but sufficient ships succeeded and British gunnery was superior enough to cost the French seven warships and 5,000 casualties, crucial given the difficulties of obtaining skilled manpower; the vital convoy reached France, however. On 14 February 1797 off Cape St. Vincent, Jervis attacked a superior Spanish fleet successfully, using tactics 180

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similar to those of Napoleon to operate on interior lines and concentrate his strength on attacking one line of Spanish warships boldly while a small force kept the other line occupied. On 11 October 1797 two British naval columns broke the line of Dutch warships at the battle of Camperdown. The Dutch were preparing to invade Ireland in order to help the cause of rebellion there. In the individual ship-to-ship engagements that the battle developed into, British victory owed much to superior gun power. At the Nile, Nelson attacked an anchored line of French warships unexpectedly on its shallow inshore side, as well as simultaneously on the other side: the French lost 11 of their 13 ships of the line. At Copenhagen (2 April 1801) the anchored Danish fleet was defeated by Nelson. At Trafalgar (21 October 1805) Nelson’s objective was to engage the larger Franco-Spanish line as rapidly as possible, attacking in two divisions in order to split his opponents into smaller groups that could be attacked in strength. The line was penetrated as planned and the battle became a series of small struggles between individual ships or groups of ships in which British gunnery and seamanship prevailed, albeit at the cost of heavy casualties, including Nelson himself, in the close combat that such engagements entailed. Although Napoleon subsequently sought, with some success, to rebuild his fleet, the Spanish navy collapsed during the Peninsular War. By 1810 Britain had 50 per cent of global naval forces; up from 28.7 per cent in 1790. Her Table 7.1 British naval forces in February 1798: numbers and global range.

The numerous ships below frigate size, e.g. sloops, were not shown in the table. Source: BL, Add. 59281, f. 13.

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proportion of world mercantile shipping also increased: effective convoying ensured that ships could be constructed with reference to the goods to be carried, rather than their military effectiveness.17 The profits from trade enabled Britain to make loans and grants to European allies. British naval power was also crucial in the war of 1812–14 with the United States. Naval blockades greatly harmed the American economy, amphibious forces were able to besiege Baltimore and burn Washington, and it was possible to send reinforcements to Canada in order to resist successfully poorly led and uncoordinated American attacks. In 1814 the British were able to construct a 112-gun ship at the naval base at Kingston on Lake Ontario which had been founded in 1784. Br itish naval hegemony rested on a sophisticated and well financed administrative structure, a large fleet drawing on the manpower resources of a substantial mercantile marine, and an ability to win engagements that reflected widely diffused qualities of seamanship and gunnery, a skilled and determined corps of captains, and able leadership. Thanks to her naval resources, Britain was able to turn tactical triumphs to strategic advantage.18 As on land, mobility, firepower and determination were crucial in battle, although at sea these were always most readily applied in the offensive.

Napoleonic warfare 1798–1814 The Second Coalition of 1798 sought to undo the French triumph of 1797. Archduke Charles defeated a smaller French army at Stockach (25 March 1799), while a Russian force under Suvorov advanced into northern Italy. Suvorov’s victories, especially Trebbia (17–19 June) and Novi (15 August 1799), were brutal battles in which repeated attacks finally found weaknesses in the French position. Like Napoleon, Suvorov was a believer in the strategic and tactical offensive and had little time for sieges. He was also willing to accept a high rate of casualties and to mount costly frontal attacks on fortified positions, such as the castle of Novi or the northern approaches to the St. Gotthard Pass. Suvorov relied on bayonet attcks rather than on the use of defensive firepower. Suvorov’s generalship contrasted with that of his more cautious Austrian allies, who were more concerned with regaining northern Italian positions by sieges, but it demonstrated clearly that a determination to pursue military goals aggressively and at the risk of high casualties was not restricted to the Revolutionary French. The loss of northern Italy played its part in the fall of France’s Directory government. In the “Brumaire” coup of 9–10 November 1799, Napoleon seized power with the help of troops and became effectively dictator; however, 182

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he did not crown himself Emperor until 1804. He was in a position not only to act as an innovative general, but also to direct the French war effort. French resources were devoted to the military with a consistency that the Revolutionary governments had lacked. The conscription system, which had become less effective in the late 1790s, was strengthened. Napoleon also developed the corps, as a level above that of the division that could include all the arms and also be large enough to operate effectively: both corps and divisions were given effective staff structures. Thus the corps added to the flexibility of the earlier divisional system the strength necessary both for the grinding battles of the period, where opposing forces would not collapse rapidly as a result of well-planned battlefield moves, and for Napoleon’s campaigns of strategically applied force. Corps operated effectively both as individual units, as at the battle of Auerstädt (1806), and in concert. Skilled staff work was important to Napoleon in being able to move many large corps by different routes yet enable them still to support each other. His Chief of Staff, Louis-Alexandre Berthier (1753–1815), was a crucial figure. Napoleon thus had a better command structure than his opponents, a contrast that helped him to victory over the Austrians in 1805, although his centralized direction of campaigns became a problem when he limited the autonomy of his commanders in the distant Peninsular War, and it proved difficult to control the large armies of his later years that were under his direct command. The French organizational and command str uctures were vital to Napoleon’s characteristic rapidity of strategic and tactical movement, while his troops also travelled more lightly than those of Frederick II. Napoleon employed this mobility to strategic effect. The manoeuvre of the central position was employed to divide more numerous opposing forces and then defeat them separately; while a strategy of envelopment was used against weaker forces: they were pinned down by an attack mounted by a section of the French army while most of the army enveloped them by cleaving past them and then cutting their lines of supply. Napoleon sought battle. On the battlefield, Napoleon was a firm believer in the efficacy of artillery, organized into powerful batteries, especially of 12pounders. At Wagram he covered the reorganization of his attack with a battery of 102 guns.19 The heavy cavalry was similarly massed for use at the vital moment, as with Marshal Joachim Murat’s charge through the Russian centre at Eylau (1807). General François Kellermann’s heavy cavalry charge at Marengo (1800) was very important in turning the tide against the Austrians. Initially, Napoleon used l’ordre mixte for the infantry: a mixture of lines and columns with many sharpshooters to precede the attack; although French tactics degenerated later on and it can be argued that Napoleon devoted insufficient attention to tactical details. 183

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Napoleon’s skill as a general has been a matter of some controversy. A recent critical account argues that “Napoleon began almost every campaign with a strategic blunder… He began many battles with a tactical error… he did careful planning, paying particular attention to movement and maximizing his numbers. But that done, he simply charged towards his enemy’s presumed location…his awesome energy; his ability to scramble, to make his men follow him, to hit again and again; and his inability to accept defeat …he always charged ahead and rewrote his plans as he went, although in mid-career he acquired superior numbers which covered his blunders and ensured his victories”. Napoleon has been described as “a deplorable tactician” at the Battle of Marengo (1800);20 he subsequently had official accounts of the battle rewritten in order to conceal his mistakes and to present the battle as going according to plan. Thus Napoleon emerges as somewhat similar to Nelson: a commander dominated by the desire to engage and win, but who could make strategic “blunders”, as Nelson did when he missed Napoleon en route to Egypt in 1798, and when he fruitlessly chased Villeneuve to the West Indies in 1805. By forcing a battle whose shape was unclear, both men placed great reliance on the subsequent mêlée, which rewarded the fighting qualities of individual units, the initiative and skill of subordinates and, certainly in Napoleon’s case, the ability to retain reserves until the crucial moment. Yet, whatever their strategic blunders, which were far from easy to avoid g iven the pr imitive communications of the period and the difficulty of establishing the positions, let alone intentions, of their opponents, both Napoleon and Nelson deserve high praise for having prepared the effective military machines that their victories revealed. Napoleon’s opening campaign as First Consul was an invasion of northern Italy boldly begun with a crossing of the Great St. Bernard Pass so that he arrived in the Austrian rear. At Marengo (14 June 1800), however, he found the Austrians to be a formidable rival, and Napoleon’s enforced retreat for much of the battle was only reversed because of a successful counter-attack mounted by French reinforcements under General Louis Desaix and Kellermann. A quarter of the French force became casualties. The Austrians then asked for an armistice, which was concluded on 15 June: the Convention of Alessandria. Fighting resumed in December, but at Hohenlinden (3 December), east of Munich, a French army under General Jean Moreau that was flexible in defence defeated the Austrians. Peace was concluded the following February at Luneville. Napoleon next attacked the Austrians in 1805 as the War of the Third Coalition began. He moved the Grande Armée (originally deployed at Boulogne in preparation for the invasion of England) into Germany by rapid 184

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marches. This outmanoeuvred the Austrian army based at Ulm and preparing for an attack from the west through the Black Forest, and not for an advance from the middle Rhine to the Danube in their rear; although, as Napoleon thought the Austrians would have already retreated, it is not clear that the eventual result was planned. However, thanks in large part to the Archduke Ferdinand, the nominal Austrian commander, their response was overly cautious. The opportunity to attack Napoleon’s rear was lost, General Mack was bottled up in Ulm, and on 20 October 1805 his army of 27,000 surrendered. This victory was followed by the overrunning of southern Ger many and Austr ia, Vienna being occupied as an open city on 12 November. The Russian forces sent to help Austria concentrated in Moravia, and Tsar Alexander I, overconfident about his strength, decided to attack Napoleon at Austerlitz on 2 December 1805. A strong Russian attack on Napoleon’s right was held in marshy terrain by French infantry, and the French then turned the weak flank of this attacking force to crush the Russians. The French had 8,000 men killed or wounded, an eighth of the army, the Austrians and Russians 16,000, and about 11,000 were taken prisoner21. The defeat led Francis I to seek an armistice, and by the Treaty of Pressburg of 26 December 1805, he accepted a harsh peace. The following year Frederick William III of Prussia joined Russia, but Napoleon attacked him before Russian reinforcements could arrive. At the battles of Jena and Auerstädt (14 October 1806) the poorly commanded Prussian forces were defeated. Napoleon crushed what he thought was the main Prussian army at Jena, while at Auerstädt Marshal Davout, with the 27,000 men of III Corps held off and finally defeated the main Prussian army of at least 50,000 men. The following February the Russians were engaged at Eylau in East Prussia (8 February 1807). Russian attacks pressed the French hard; and repeated French attacks failed to break the Russians, who withdrew during the night. French casualties were heavy and, although Napoleon had gained possession of the battlefield and Russian losses were heavier, he had won neither tactically nor strategically. At nearby Friedland, however, on 14 June 1807, the Russians attacked with an inferior force, and with their back to a river, losing heavily. The following month, Frederick William III was obliged to accept the Treaty ofTilsit which restricted the size of his army to 42,000 men. A treaty of the same name ended hostilities between France and Russia. Friedland had left the Russians so battered that they needed time to recoup losses and rebuild the army. In November 1807 the French invaded Portugal successfully, but Napoleon’s attempt to seize Spain led to a popular uprising in 1808. A surrounded French corps of 20,000 surrendered at Bailen on 21 July and the new king of Spain, 185

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Napoleon’s brother Joseph, retreated from Madrid. A British force under Sir Arthur Wellesley, later Duke ofWellington, cleared Portugal after using superior firepower to defeat attacking French forces atVimeiro (21 August 1808). Napoleon moved most of his forces to northern Spain and in November marched south, defeating the poorly trained and commanded (and outnumbered) Spanish troops at Espinosa, Gamonal, andTudela, and entering Madrid on 4 December. This was the only occasion on which Napoleon campaigned in Spain. In 1809 he had to confront a rearmed Austria that proclaimed a War of German Liberation. The first major battle of this new war, Aspern-Essling (21–22 May), reflected little credit on Napoleon, whose over-bold attack on a superior Austrian force under Archduke Charles was repelled and followed by a serious Austrian assault on the French, who were isolated on the north bank of the Danube. The French army was not destroyed, but Napoleon had to abandon the battlefield. He counter-attacked at Wagram on 5–6 July, but, despite the fact that he drove Charles from the field, the Austrian army was not routed. The French flank offensive was successful, the Austrian one not, and both sides used artillery to great effect. Wagram was followed by peace with Austria on French terms, the Treaty of Vienna of 14 October 1809, and an extension of French territory. France had used her military force to overrun Germany and Italy, achieving a hitherto unprecedented power. However, Tsar Alexander, who had been forced to accept French domination of most of Europe when he met Napoleon at Tilsit in 1807, was increasingly concerned about French strength and intentions and he broke with the Emperor in 1812. In the intervening years, Barclay de Tolly had reformed the Russian army. As with his attacks on Austria, Prussia and Spain, Napoleon resolved to deal with the crisis by invading his opponent and striking at the centre of its power. He sought to do so with an army so large that it would guarantee victory. Over 600,000 men were available for the invasion: 200,000 of them were French, another 100,000 from departments annexed to France after 1789, and the remainder were allied, principally Ger man, forces. Alexander was outnumbered, but the flow of French reinforcements to Spain was stopped and Wellington was therefore able to launch an offensive. On 24–25 June 1812 Napoleon’s forces crossed the Niemen river without resistance. The Russians fell back, denying Napoleon the decisive battle he sought. The French, in pursuit, were faced by growing supply problems— exacerbated by Russian scorched earth and guerrilla actions—and by the loss of men through disease, fatigue and hunger. The Dnieper was crossed successfully, but attacks on the Russian forces defending Smolensk failed (17 August), and the Russians withdrew successfully. The Russians sought to stop 186

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the advance on Moscow at Borodino (7 September), a battle involving 233,000 men and 1,227 cannon. Instead of seeking to turn either of the Russian flanks, Napoleon attacked the Russian left and the battle lasted all day. The Russians resisted successive French attacks and were driven back without breaking, Napoleon refused to commit the Imperial Guard, which might have had a decisive impact, and the Russians abandoned the battlefield at night. Despite the heavier Russian casualties, it was Napoleon’s losses, about a quarter of his army, that were crucial. Borodino was very much a battle of attrition, with total casualties amounting to some 77,000 men.22 The road to the capital was now open. On 14 September 1812 Napoleon entered an undefended Moscow only to find the city set ablaze that night, probably by the Russians, and Alexander refusing to negotiate. As the supply situation continued to deteriorate, Napoleon abandoned Moscow on 19 October. Heavy snowfalls from 4 November turned the retreat into a nightmare as the French supply system collapsed, and exposure and starvation carried off thousands. The Russian attempt to cut Napoleon off at the Beresina river (26–29 November) failed, but the French rearguard suffered heavily there and the army that left Russia had suffered considerably more than 300,000 casualties.23 The idea of Napoleonic invincibility had been shattered, and in early 1813 Napoleon’s diplomatic position collapsed as the French retreated before the Russian advance. In March 1813 Prussia declared war on France. Napoleon rebuilt his army to a force of over 400,000 plus his artillery, but the new recruits were more like the fresh troops of 1792 than the veterans of his earlier campaigns, and, unlike in 1792, France’s opponents were not outnumbered. In addition, Napoleon was unable to create a new cavalry to match the troops lost in Russia. His victories over the Prussians and Russians at Lützen (2 May) and Bautzen (20–21 May) were achieved over outnumbered forces, and neither was decisive; although they might well have brought victory had Napoleon pressed on. Bautzen led both sides to agree to an armistice. Napoleon rejected peace terms that summer, Austria and Sweden joined his opponents and Napoleon was heavily outnumbered. In the autumn of 1813 Napoleon confronted his opponents again. Austrian, Prussian, Russian and Swedish forces exceeded 600,000, while Napoleon’s total field army was only 370,000. The allies adopted theTrachenburg Plan: battle with Napoleon was to be avoided while independent forces under his subordinates were to be attacked. The Prussians defeated detached French forces at Grossbeeren (23 August), on the Katzbach river (26 August), and at Dennewitz (6 September); and the Austrians won at Kulm (30 August). Only at Dresden, where Frederick William III insisted on fighting on 27 August, was Napoleon victorious, thanks to strong attacks by his flanks. Nevertheless, this was not the triumph of 187

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envelopment that the French required were they to win. By failing to concentrate his forces, Napoleon had allowed their attenuation and this had preserved neither the territory under French control nor the strategic advantage. Instead, it was Napoleon who was outmanoeuvred, his line of retreat threatened by the converging Allied forces. At the Battle of the Nations at Leipzig (16–19 October) Napoleon was heavily outnumbered: 195,000 to 365,000 by the time both sides were fully engaged. Colonel Hudson Lowe, who was present with General Gebhard Blücher’s Prussian forces, noted: “History scarcely furnishes an example of so immense an army being brought into the field, to act upon one point.” Unable to defeat his opponents, whom he nevertheless held off, Napoleon decided to retreat, but the premature destruction of the Elster bridge trapped four corps, leading to French losses of 68,000 in the battle. Lowe’s account of the battle indicated features that were to be characteristic of conflict later in the century. He wrote of the attack on the French in Leipzig on 19 October: twenty battalions of Russians…under cover of a most formidable fire from about fifty pieces of artillery made their attack, the foremost battalions dispersing in small parties, and pushing the enemy at every point where the ground best admitted…the enemy firing from the houses (and streets which had been bar r icaded and filled with obstructions of every kind) and making at every corner and at every house a most obstinate resistance…the dead and the dying absolutely obstructed the passage in the gates and streets.24 After the battle, Napoleon’s position in Germany collapsed as former allies, such as Bavaria, Saxony and Württemberg, deserted. In the early months of 1814 Napoleon, with some success, attacked the Austro-Prussian forces that invaded eastern France, manoeuvring with skill in order to destroy the most exposed units. Initial successes—for example, over Blücher at Brienne (29 January) and a Russian force at Champaubert (10 February)—led him to reject Allied peace proposals that would have left him France, but numbers told, and both Napoleon and his subordinates suffered defeats as at Laon (9–10 March). Napoleon had the advantage at the battle of Arcis-sur-Aube (20–21 March), but he was outnumbered and, after defeating another French force at La-Fère-Champenoise on 25 March, the Austrians and Prussians marched on Paris, ignoring Napoleon’s position on their flank. Their united army of 107,000 men faced only about 23,000 defenders, and the latter were driven back in the Paris suburbs on 30 March, leading to the opening of negotiations on the 31 March. Napoleon was still in the field, 188

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however, when Paris surrendered, and a provisional French government deposed him. With his marshals unwilling to fight on, Napoleon abdicated (6 April 1814).25

The Peninsular War As in the War of the Spanish Succession, a largely separate struggle was at the same time being waged in Iberia. Napoleon’s imposition of French control on Madrid in December 1808 had been followed by the retreat of Sir John Moore’s British army in the face of overwhelming French strength. At Corunna (16 January 1809) the British avoided destruction at the hands of Marshal Nicolas Soult, but Moore was killed and the army was evacuated next day by the British navy. Soult then moved south to extinguish British forces in Portugal, but was pushed back by Wellesley. Wellesley then advanced into Spain, using his infantry firepower to repulse French columns atTalavera (27–28 July 1809), before retreating in the face of superior French forces who nearly succeeded in encircling the British. The Spanish failure to provide promised supplies had been a serious blow to Wellesley. He developed a strong defensive position, the Lines of Torres Vedras, to cover Lisbon, and these held off French assaults in the winter of 1810–11. In May 1811 the British government decided that their forces should not be restricted to the defence of Portugal. In early 1812 Wellesley, now Viscount Wellington, took the two key Spanish border fortresses of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, moving on to invade northern Spain in June. On 22 July the French were defeated at Salamanca, Marmont’s strung-out disposition allowing Wellington to defeat the French divisions in detail. Wellington pressed on to take Madrid, only to be forced to retire in the face of larger French forces in the autumn. In 1813 he invaded again, and Joseph Bonaparte abandoned Madrid in order to block any British advance on France. Joseph’s army was weakened by the detachment of substantial forces to deal with guerrillas in Navarre and the Basque country. Poor battlefield dispositions led to a crushing French defeat at Vitoria (21 June 1813). Apart from a few fortresses, French rule in Spain was at an end and Wellington was able to invade southern France. Soult held the line of the Bidassoa but at low tide early on 7 October 1813 the British used fords to cross the estuary, before defeating the defenders. France had been invaded. The outnumbered French were pushed back to Bayonne in November and December 1813, Soult being pursued and defeated at Orthez (27 February) and Toulouse (10 April) once campaigning resumed the following spring. French forces in Iberia outnumbered those under Wellington’s effective 189

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command and yet the French were checked and defeated at a time when Napoleon was dominant elsewhere. Their defeat can be attributed to the problems of campaigning in Spain, especially Spanish guerrilla resistance, to British fighting qualities, generalship and naval and financial resources, and to the poor quality of French command. Poorly armed, poorly supplied and poorly trained Spanish armies and irregulars were repeatedly defeated by the French, who conquered Andalusia (except for Cadiz) in 1810, Estremadura in 1811, and Lower Catalonia and Valencia in 1811–12. Nevertheless, the burden—in terms of garrisons and casualties—of operating against these forces was considerable: the 300,000 French casualties exceeded those from other campaigns. The Spaniards were generally unsuccessful in formal conflict, and British generals could be critical of their organization, but their regular and guerrilla operations denied the French control over the countryside and, in particular, greatly harmed their communications and logistics. The French were unable to concentrate their superior forces against Wellington, but they would have been able to do so once they had knocked out the Spaniards, which would have been a distinct possibility but for the invasion of Russia. Spanish guerrillas also provided Wellington with useful intelligence.26 The disciplined firepower of the British infantry played a major part in Wellington’s victories. The British succeeded in balancing the well-drilled line that represented the legacy of Frederick II and the extensive use of light infantry in battle, the conservatism of an emphasis on linear firepower formations with a greater rôle for manoeuvrability. Wellington never had more than 60,000 British troops under his personal command and was always outnumbered in both cavalry and artillery, but he was a fine judge of terrain. At Vimeiro the well-positioned British lines succeeded in blunting the attacking French columns, while at Salamanca he used his lines in attack with great effect. It is more pertinent to see Wellington as effective, rather than conservative. He also demonstrated his ability to win a decisive victory when he routed the Danes at Kjöge on 29 August 1807. The French, conversely, suffered from a number of poor commanders, especially the tired Marshal André Massena in 1810 and Joseph Bonaparte at Vitoria, and, as seriously, from Napoleon’s continued interference from a distance. His misguided attempt to direct plans through written instructions was compounded by the absence of a clear command structure within Spain itself.27 Wellington, in contrast, had far more control over military operations. He was appointed Commander-in-Chief of all allied forces in November 1812. 28 Thus he benefited from the unity of command that helped Napoleon in his campaigns in central Europe in 1805–9 and had earlier helped Frederick II. A flawed command structure was not the only problem facing the French, 190

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however. Their battlefield tactics were also inadequate. In place of l’ordre mixte, the interplay of lines, columns and skirmishers that had earlier proved so effective, especially in weakening lines of opposing infantry, the French relied on crude attacks in dense columns. Thus the firepower of the British lines was not compromised, and the French themselves provided an easy target for the British. British firepower was more effective than that of the French, and tests carried out by the Prussian General Gerhard von Scharnhorst in 1813 showed that, whereas French and Prussian flintlocks were more effective at 100 yards, their British counterparts were better at 200 yards.29 Thus the failure to weaken the British before the column attack was especially serious. Wellington’s policy of locating his troops behind the crest of hills in order to protect them from artillery was important, as at Bussaco on 27 September 1810. This reverse-slope ploy was employed in Russia by the French rearguard at the battle of the Beresina. Wellington was also very active in counter-attacks and the well timed bayonet charge was as effective a tactic as the volley. The control of fortified positions (and, therefore, sieges) played a greater rôle in the Peninsular War than in Napoleon’s campaigns in central Europe. Cadiz resisted a French siege successfully between February 1810 and August 1812 and thus challenged French control of Andalusia. Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo controlled the routes between Portugal and Spain. Explaining the weakness of his position in 1813, Lieutenant-General John Murray noted: “The French General [Suchet] possessed in every direction fortresses around me to cover his army if defeated, to furnish his supplies, or to retire to if he wished to avoid an action for the purposes of bringing up more troops.”30 The British war effort in Iberia was totally dependent on Britain’s naval and financial resources and the former were also of direct relevance for British campaigning. Thus, after Vitoria, the British forces could be supplied from ports in northern Spain, and support could be given to the Spaniards, including the dispatch of troops to Cadiz in 1810, while amphibious expeditions could be sent to Spain’s northern and eastern coasts. The financial burden of the Peninsular War were considerable. Supplies dispatched in 1811 included, for example, 1,130 horses at the beginning of the year, clothes for 30,000 Portuguese troops, 46,756 pairs of shoes in July and August, and two portable printing presses: an indication of the rôle of propaganda. Costs mounted: from .£2,778,796 in 1808 to £6,061,235 in 1810, plus another £2 million in ordnance stores and supplies in kind. Rising costs reflected the dispatch of more troops and led to discussion of the need for victory, or the cutting or withdrawal of British forces. Obliged to fight in allied countries and thus unable to requisition supplies, Wellington needed hard cash, but by 1812 his shortage of money was a serious problem: the troops had not been paid for five months. When campaigning abroad it was necessary to pay troops and foreign 191

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suppliers in specie and this placed a major burden on British bullion reserves, which fell rapidly. Thus in 1811 the government wanted the £2 million worth of aid it had promised Portugal provided in kind.31 The burgeoning economy of Britain and of the British oceanic trading system, and the strength of her public finances, were therefore crucial to the war effort. The introduction of income tax from 1799 increased tax revenues dramatically. These rose from £18.1 million in 1793 to £39.1 in 1802 and £77.9 in 1815; in contrast, those of Austria rose from £8.7 million in 1792 to a maximum of £16.2 in 1808. As a result, Britain was able to provide her allies with crucial subsidies: £23.25 million in 1803–12, £39.5 million in money and armaments in 1813–15. In 1809 Britain was described as “the financial resource of all those who no longer have money”.32 Thanks to her economic and financial resilience, Britain was able to survive Napoleon’s Continental System: his attempt to exclude her from trade with the Continent.

Waterloo These commitments had not been made without much difficulty, but British resources were one of the reasons why the stakes were loaded against the final throw of Napoleon as a gambler on his return from exile in Elba in 1815. The perfunctory nature of support for Louis XVIII was such that, although Napoleon landed in Provence on 1 March with very few men, by 20 March he was back in Paris. Four days earlier, Austria, Britain, Prussia and Russia had already promised to keep a combined army of 600,000 men in the field until Napoleon was defeated. The overwhelming strength at their disposal led Napoleon to strike first at his nearest opponents: a BritishDutch-German army under Wellington at Brussels and the Prussians under Blücher at Liège. On 15 June 1815 Napoleon invaded the Netherlands and gained the strategic advantage. 33 The following day his forces engaged Blücher at Ligny and Wellington at Quatre Bras. Blücher was defeated by Napoleon with heavy casualties, but Marshal Michel Ney had less success against Wellington: there was no French victory and a counter-attack regained most of the original allied position. Exposed by Blücher’s defeat, Wellington fell back on a ridge at Mont-Saint-Jean. The subsequent battle ofWaterloo (18 June) found Wellington with 68,000 men holding his position against attacks by Napoleon’s 72,000. As in the Peninsular battles, the British line was not weakened by prior engagement, although the French attempted to do so by artillery bombardment, and British firepower decisively defeated a number of separate French attacks, including that of Marshal Jean Drouet’s 192

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corps in the early afternoon, Ney’s cavalry attacks in the late afternoon, and the Guard infantry at the end of the day. The defensive nature ofWellington’s tactics was captured in the diary of Edmund Wheatley, an ensign in the King’s German Legion. He wrote of the squares which Wellington s troops formed to resist the French cavalry: “we dashed them back as coolly as the sturdy rock repels the ocean’s foam…we presented our bristly points like the peevish porcupines assailed by clamorous dogs”.34 With more men and more time, Napoleon might have won, possibly by the repeated use of his costly frontal attacks against the British centre which was in a dreadful state by late afternoon, but also possibly by threatening Wellington’s flanks. He had no more. The Prussians had regrouped after Ligny within striking distance of Waterloo and from mid-afternoon their advance units began attacking the French right. Marshal Emmanuel Grouchy, whom Napoleon had sent in pursuit of the Prussians after Ligny, failed either to prevent Prussian intervention at Waterloo or to join Napoleon himself at the battle, thus denying the Emperor the numerical strength he worked best with. Yet Napoleon did not fight well that day with the troops he had. Having moved slowly on the morning of 17 June, he had simply followed Wellington north and had made little attempt to take strategic control of the situation; nor were the heavy rain and mud of 17 June conducive to boldness. His subsequent tactical lack of imagination on 18 June was in keeping with his earlier failure to obtain a decisive success while his opponents were divided; although, had Napoleon won, it is difficult to see what this would have achieved. Substantial Austrian forces were approaching eastern France, and Napoleon’s domestic base was insecure; although resources have to be coupled with the will to use them, and this could be shattered by defeat on the battlefield, while, conversely, victory could alter the domestic situation.

Napoleonic warfare The military context in 1815 was far from traditional. Victory in an individual battle or even the campaign seemed of scant weight beside the massive resources deployed against France. The scale was different from that of the challenge faced by Frederick II, as was the “miracle” required: the political will that was critical was not only that of Napoleon, but also that of the French population, much of which was politicized. The difference in scale of resources also reflected the transition in Napoleonic warfare from the battles of 1792– 1807 when, to a considerable extent, the French had engaged opponents using more traditional tactics, to those of 1809–15, when the opposing forces were 193

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similar and France was faced with the more extensive deployment of resources by her opponents. Yet there was also much that was traditional at Waterloo. A closely deployed British force relied on the musket to defeat attackers, whose tactics and weaponry were far from novel. The squares that resisted Ney’s cavalry looked back on nearly half a millennium to Crécy (1346) where English longbowmen had defeated attacking French cavalry: firepower bringing low physical force. Waterloo was not a battle decided by artillery: it was infantry firepower and the bayonet that were crucial, although this firepower was somewhat different from that of the earlier longbowmen: Napoleonic battles lasted longer. Similarly, the British victories over the French in the Night (or Second) battle of Aboukir in Egypt in 1801, at Maida in Calabria in 1806, and in the Peninsular War, can be attributed to superior infantry firepower. John Moore noted in 1801 “we have beat them without cavalry and inferior in artillery”.35 More generally, the Revolutionary-Napoleonic period was notable for the greater rôle of the population in warfare, although this had clearly been prefigured in the American War of Independence. This was not simply a matter of the French Revolutionary forces,36 although without a doubt the new ideology they represented and reflected both led to widespread consideration about the possible use of the populace, and influenced strategy: mass forces placed a premium on attack.37 Action against the Revolution also showed the military potential of popular forces. This was true of opposition within France, particularly from the Chouans of the west and the Corsicans. Moore, then a lieutenant-colonel, noted of the latter, “They are armed in general with fowling pieces, and turn out voluntarily, with their provisions on their back, and serve without pay—when their provisions are expended they return home, but are succeeded by others in the like manner—thus…a body of men is constantly kept up, sufficient to stop the communication of the enemy by land”.38 Domestic opposition was eventually overwhelmed, although the campaigns in the Vendée in western France were hard-fought: the woody terrain helping the defenders. In 1815 the Vendée rose again, but forces loyal to Napoleon crushed the rebels at the battle of Rocheservière. Outside France, popular forces were also important: in Naples (1799), the Tyrol (1809) and Spain; in the last, not only during the Peninsular War but also in response to French invasion in 1794–5.39 When the French siege of Nieuport was relieved in 1793, Sir Charles Grey noted the “gallant behaviour of the fishermen… meritorious conduct in serving the batterys during a siege of seven days”.40 That summer, an insurrection in the mountains near Delémont in the Prince-Bishopric of Basle, which had recently been annexed to France, received no outside support and was defeated by overwhelming French forces.41 Despite the “greatest want 194

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of arms and ammunition”, the “armed populace” of Calabria rose against the French in 1806. They were helped by the British and the harsh terrain. The French, who responded with a marked “degree of severity”, had to commit 48,000 troops to the suppression of the rebellion.42 In 1809 General Gerhard von Scharnhorst, the Director of the Prussian War Academy, advocated a national army, general conscription, the appointment of commoners as officers, the abandonment of linear tactics in favour of co-ordinated skirmishers and columns, an emphasis on accurate firepower, and a popular insurrection in areas under French control. Frederick William III was unwilling to accept such a programme, but in 1813 general conscription was introduced. In 1810 Wellington called out the ordenança, the traditional levy of every able-bodied man, when the French invaded Portugal. In addition, governments sought to bolster their regular forces with amateur troops, the British raising substantial forces as Volunteers. Of the 162,300 effective rank-and-file troops in Britain in 1798, only 47,700 were regulars: 60,000 were militia and 54,300 volunteers. There was a new emphasis on winning public support.43 In 1796 Major-General David Dundas, the keen exponent of Prussian methods, produced a memorandum outlining the total war that would have to be waged if the French invaded: When an enemy lands, all the difficulties of civil government and the restraint of forms cease; every thing must give way to the supplying and strengthening the army, repelling the enemy… The strongest and most effectual measures are necessary… The great object must be constantly to harass, alarm and fire on an enemy, and to impede his progress till a sufficient force assembles to attack him…every inch of ground, every field may to a degree be disputed, even by inferior numbers… The country must be dr iven, and every thing useful within his reach destroyed without mercy.44 The invasion of the Netherlands in 1799 by an Orangist force under Crown Prince William was resisted by a rapidly assembled militia. When war broke out between Britain and America in 1812 many volunteers came forward in Canada.45 Some of the popular forces that emerged had only a tangential bearing on the struggle between France and her opponents. In 1798 the United Irishmen rose against the British only to be defeated with much savagery by substantial British forces. In 1804 a popular revolt in Serbia was the origin of the modern Serb state. Four years later, a levée en masse was decreed for the defence of Sweden against Russia, France and Denmark.46 On Haiti, a Negro general in French service, Toussaint L’Ouverture, seized control in 1800, and in 1804 an 195

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independent republic was proclaimed. In 1823, the Marquis de Lafayette, who had risen to major general as a volunteer on the American side during the War of American Independence and held senior military positions in France during the early stages of the Revolution, contrasted the “masses populaires”, whom as a liberal he supported, with the “masses automates” of the armies of central and northern Europe.47 An interesting comparison to the rôle of popular enthusiasm in Europe is provided by the jihad (holy war) launched in modern northern Nigeria in 1804. Initially, the Muslim forces had no firearms and were essentially mobile infantry forces, principally archers, able to use their firepower to defeat the cavalry of the established powers. The Muslims, however, acquired cavalry and developed tactics based on mobility, manoeuvre and shock attack, an interesting parallel to those of Napoleon. The jihad spread and the powerful Hausa fortified positions were isolated and fell to the irregular insurgents, so that by 1808 all major Hausa states had fallen: that year the Gobir capital of Alkalawa fell to a co-ordinated 3-pronged pincer attack.48 In Europe, there was no rigid divide between government and popular forces; no more than between regulars and irregulars, a distinction that was related, though only in part. The constant harrying of the French during the retreat from Moscow by Cossacks is an example of the importance of irregulars. The importance of popular forces was not unprecedented, although its scale was new in recent European history. In certain military spheres such forces were of little consequence. They made no impact in naval warfare, which remained a matter of a small number of states that had the necessary resources and infrastructure. Popular forces were more important on land. They were capable of fighting battles. The Pugachev serf rising in Russia of 1773–4 culminated in the battle of Tatischchevo of 22 March 1774, in which Pugachev fielded 9,000 men and 36 guns against the 6,500 men and 22 to 25 guns of General Golitsyn. On 23–24 March a separate rebel force of 7000–10,000 men under Zarubin Chika was defeated near Ufa. 49 The trained regulars were victor ious in both battles, and they were similarly successful in most engagements in the Revolutionary-Napoleonic period, as in the suppression of the rebellion in the Vendée in 1793–6. Given the importance of firepower and the technological trend in that direction, not least because of the growing rôle of artillery, it is scarcely surprising that the advantage in battle lay with the regulars. Yet there was much to warfare besides battles. Popular and irregular forces could take a much more significant rôle in military operations centring on the control of localities, denying control, supplies and communications to regular opponents. The skill of the latter in delivering rapid fire on the battlefield did not mean that they were necessarily capable in other spheres. Moore noted of his troops in the 196

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West Indies in 1796, “great want of discipline, and confidence in their officers … The men of our regiments are mere recruits—the officers young and without either zeal or experience”.50 The deficiencies of regular forces were to be revealed noticeably in the New World. The British captured Buenos Aires in 1806, but the small garrison was then forced to surrender in the face of a popular rising. An attempt to regain control in 1807 failed, with 3,000 casualties, in the face of a far larger defending force.51 The British were defeated outside New Orleans in 1815. The bitter conflicts that characterized the Spanish American revolutions saw victories for regular Spanish forces such as at Huaqui (20 June 1811) and Sipe Sipe (29 November 1815), which led to Spanish reconquests of Upper Peru (Bolivia), but also victories for irregulars, such as the capture of La Paz in 1814. Guerrillas in Upper Peru cut Spanish communications and limited their control. 52 As with the American War of Independence, the crucial military decision—to fight in regular armies—reflected the political state-building and social conservatism of the bulk of the revolutionary leaders. The major resources required to sustain Revolutionary and Napoleonic conflict and the politicization of much of the population, for example in the German War of Liberation, were important pointers to the character of warfare later in the nineteenth century, especially of the wars of nationalism in 1848– 71, the American Civil War and the First World War, a conflict of nationalism and national mobilization. The last was, however, to be fought with different weapons and in a different fashion from the Napoleonic wars. All ages are a complex interaction of old and new, and the Napoleonic period was no exception. 53 With the hindsight provided by subsequent technological developments, it is possible to see the period in terms of the use of yet greater resources of people, matériel and funds to pursue familiar military courses. This is true of war at sea. The French Revolution did not bring a change in naval warfare comparable to that on land. The growing stress on naval firepower continued to affect fleet structures: whereas in 1720 there were only two warships displacing more than 3,000 tons, by 1815 nearly a fifth of the naval strength above 500 tons was in this category. In 1800–15 ships of 2,500– 3,000 tons achieved greater importance, whereas those of 2,000–2,500 and 1,500–2,000 tons declined in number. These bigger ships were able to carry heavier guns. Whereas the average ship of the line in 1720 had 60 guns and was armed with 12- and 24-pounders, that of 1815 had 74 guns with 32- and 36pounders on the lower deck. Nevertheless, this greater firepower did not lead to dramatic changes in naval warfare and it did not begin in the Revolutionary-Napoleonic period. 54 The invention of a system of ship construction using diagonal bracing in order to strengthen hulls and to prevent the arching of keels, designed by Robert Seppings, was to permit the building 197

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of longer two-deckers armed with 80 or 90 guns, but although Seppings experimented in the 1800s at Plymouth and Chatham, the first ship built entirely on this principle, HMS Howe, was not launched until 1815. Seppings was also responsible for the round bow and round stern. Two years earlier, Robert Fulton had drawn up plans for a powerful steam-propelled frigate, significantly named Demologos (‘voice of the people’), but such developments still lay in the future.55 It is easier to point to innovation on land, both by the French and in response to the need to defeat them. If there was relatively little in the case of the British, the Prussians made a major effort to incorporate skirmishers into their battle formations, so that Prussian operations “typically consisted of lengthy fire-fights interspersed with local attacks by battalion columns”. France’s opponents, apart from Britain, emulated the corps system. Peter Paret has claimed that there was a “revolution in war” composed of a great increase in the number of soldiers, “far larger [and] more sophisticated administrative services” and “innovations in infantry tactics and technical improvements in artillery”, that “for the first time made possible the close co-ordination of infantry, cavalry, and artillery in all phases of combat”. 56 Uniforms and accoutrements were simplified and made more functional.57 Greater use of light infantry was certainly a characteristic of Napoleonic warfare, but much else that it is noted for had been anticipated in earlier conflicts: large armies, a strategy of movement, a preference for battles over sieges, a greater emphasis on artillery. Possibly the greatest tactical difference was that of scale: the forces involved in campaigns such as 1805, 1809, 1812 and 1813 were greater than those in the Wars of the Spanish, Austrian and Bavarian Wars of Succession and the Seven Years’ War. Saxe had suggested 40,000 as the number that could be controlled most effectively, while Frederick II and Guibert recommended 50,000, and in the battle in which Frederick commanded more (Prague, 1757) he largely lost control. The larger armies of the Napoleonic period posed greater problems of command and control, both on campaign and in battle, and exacerbated logistical difficulties. The battlefield atVitoria extended for over eight miles. In battle larger armies led to lengthy struggles, as at Fleurus, Aspern, Wagram, Leipzig and Waterloo, as victory in part of the field was countered by the moves of other formations. Wellington described the battle of Sorauren against Soult (28 July 1813), in which a French advance on blockaded Pamplona was thwarted, as “fair bludgeon work”.58 Such conflicts of attrition put a premium on manpower, as well as on resourceful generalship and the ability to respond to and shape developments. Napoleon had these, although in 1812 and 1815 he displayed little capacity to innovate successfully. As the proportion of new recruits in Napoleon’s army rose, that of soldiers accustomed to manoeuvring 198

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under fire decreased, and this may have contributed to the stress on numbers and straightforward assaults. Napoleon has been seen both as the destroyer of eighteenth-century warfare and as its culmination. Such an exercise is inaccurate as it implies a misleading uniformity in pre-Revolutionary warfare. In some respects, especially in its artillery, the French army changed more in the quarter-century before the Revolution than in the Napoleonic period. The degree to which Napoleon was a reformer can be exaggerated. It is also unhelpful to contrast Napoleonic and pre-Revolutionary warfare starkly, as warfare is a product of a multiplicity of related but to some degree autonomous activities that do not necessarily proceed on the same trajectory or with a similar pace. To simplify greatly: if the political and social context is to be seen as crucial, then the Revolutionary and Napoleonic period was more of a departure than it would appear if attention is concentrated on weaponry and naval conflict.

European warfare and the global context 1798–1815 The most dramatic military clash between Europeans and non-Western peoples in the period occurred in Egypt in 1798. At Shubra Khit (13 July) and Embabeh (21 July, Battle of the Pyramids), Napoleon deployed his infantry in squares and relied on cannon and musket fire to repel attacks by Mameluke cavalry. Mameluke casualties were heavy and far greater than those of the French. A warrior caste that emphasized personal valour as manifested in handto-hand conflict had been brought low by a European society that did not see it as dishonourable to kill from a distance and to do so without any consideration of personal strength. The Battle of the Pyramids gave the French control of Lower Egypt. The French won further victories at Sadiman (7 October) and Mount Tabor (16 April 1799), in the last of which squares were again decisive: the French force, outnumbered by 17 to 1, held off the Turks for eight hours before being relieved by Napoleon. The fortress of El Arish surrendered on 19 February 1799 after a heavy bombardment by 12-pounders and mortars brought an end to a siege that had begun on 11 February. Jaffa fell to direct assault in March 1799, but Napoleon lost troops to the plague, and was unsuccessful when he besieged Acre in March-May 1799. This reflected his disadvantage in siege artillery and seapower. The former, sent by sea, had been captured by British warships under Sir Sidney Smith. Acre was a strong fortress with many cannon, well defended by a French émigré Colonel Antoine Le Picard de Phélypeaux, supported by Smith s flotilla, and able to resist Napoleon’s field artillery (which was short of ammunition) and infantry 199

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attacks. Retreating to Egypt, Napoleon attacked a Turkish army that had been transported by Smith. At the battle of Aboukir (25 July 1799), Napoleon assaulted fortified lines successfully using his artillery to clear a section through which the cavalry were able to storm. The Turkish army disintegrated with heavy casualties, while French casualties were few.59 Napoleon s invasion of Egypt and Palestine led to the first accurate map of the region being made, the surveying for which was carried out by the French army. It would be mistaken to imply from Napoleon’s victories in 1798–9 that firepower entailed inevitable victory for Europeans. Napoleon evaded the British navy and returned to France in 1799, his army in Egypt being defeated by a British expeditionary force under Sir Ralph Abercromby at the Night (or Second) Battle of Aboukir on 22 March 1801. Colonel John Hely-Hutchinson, who took command after Abercromby was killed, and secured the surrender of the French in 1801, claimed five years later that if Britain went to war with Turkey, Egypt could easily be taken: A corps of 4 or 5000 infantry, 7 or 800 cavalry with a proportion of artillery will be sufficient to accomplish this object…it is certain that no Turkish force alone could ever drive a corps of English troops of any strength out of Egypt… Their military force, for army they have none, is not capable of resisting any European troops. The Russians acting with any degree of vigour, and conducting their military movements with anything like military combination and foresight, would drive them from Constantinople… This operation would certainly be only a march… [Turkish] infantry or rather their armed mob, behind walls, and in close countries, act generally speaking with the greatest degree of firmness. In a plain they are worth nothing—Their cavalry has still great excellenc, and though it is impossible to get them to charge in line, they are the most formidable in the world against infantry when once broken or even shaken…difficult to discipline them after the European manner.60 The following year (1807) a British army, 5,000 men under Alexander Fraser, was sent to Egypt. Alexandria was taken without difficulty, but a force sent to seize Rosetta was forced to retreat with heavy losses in the face of Mehmet Ali’s Albanian soldiers, and the British evacuated Egypt. Poor intelligence and determined opposition had thwarted Fraser; and with their myriad problems the British lacked the spare resources to make a determined attempt on Egypt. Nevertheless, their failure underlined what was already apparent from India, that non-Western forces ar med with firearms could mount formidable opposition. Nevertheless, the British were victorious in India. Their gains in the Third 200

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Mysore War (1790–2) were followed by the Second Rohilla War (1794) in which the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Robert Abercromby, with a small force won the battle of Battina against a far larger army under Gholam Mahommed, although the victory was not easily gained. In the Fourth Mysore War (1799) Tippoo Sultan’s capital of Seringapatam was successfully stormed on 4 May, Tippoo dying in the defence. Four years later, the Second Maratha War broke out in western India, with the British fielding 60,000 men on a number of fronts. At the battle ofAssaye (23 September), Wellesley (Wellington) with 4,500 men, 17 guns and 5,000 unreliable Indian cavalry successfully confronted a force of 30,000 cavalry, 10,000 infantry trained by French officers, and over 100 cannon. The latter under Pohlmann, a German mercenary, moved fast, were well served and laid, disabled the Br itish guns, and inflicted heavy casualties, but at Assaye Wellington demonstrated what he believed essential for campaigning in India: speedy attack.61 At Assaye, Wellington’s success owed much to a bayonet charge, scarcely conforming to the standard image ofWestern armies gunning down masses of non-European troops relying on cold steel. Casualties accounted for over a quarter of the British force. British losses were less in their victory at Argaon (Argaum) on 29 November, but again the Maratha artillery, which checked the first British attack, was effective. Wellington eventually succeeded with a second attack supported by light artillery. This victory and Wellesley’s ability to take the initiative were instrumental in leading to a successful peace that December. A recent study has concluded that the “Maratha artillery was more advanced than the British on several counts” but that their “command structure was in shambles” and that the absence of regular pay destroyed discipline and control.62 Operations in northern India were directed by the Commander-in-Chief, General Gerard Lake, another bold general, who defeated French-officered forces at Delhi (11 September 1803) andLeswari (1 November 1803). The following year he defeated Jaswant Rao Holkar at Far ruckhabad (17 November). Like Wellesley, Lake was a firm believer in mobility, and led his troops accordingly. Only through strategic mobility could the British hope to counter the Maratha cavalry63 and impose themselves on such a large area. Under pressure, British troops could march at least 60 miles in 24 hours, thus achieving surprise at Farruckhabad. Lake was interested in developing light forces: horse artillery, native light cavalry and native infantry skirmishers. Despite their flexibility, the British had a number of serious setbacks. William Monson lost his cavalry and guns when forced to retreat in the face of Holkar’s vastly superior force in 1804. The following year, Lake lost 2,312 killed and wounded in four unsuccessful attempts to storm Bharatpur: he had no siege artillery. Yet the composition of Monson’s force, most of which was 201

India, 1756–1805

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native, indicated that the fusion of European training and Indian manpower was an opportunity as well as a threat. Indeed, such a fusion was to be a basis of British military power in the nineteenth century, helping in the creation of an imperial state of hitherto unprecedented range. The first Indian troops raised by the East India Company appear to have been two companies of Rajputs enlisted at Bombay in 1684. The mostly native Indian army was 18,200 strong in 1763, 115,400 in 1782 and 154,500 in 1805. In 1787 Cornwallis felt less concerned aboutTipu of Mysore, “since I have seen this brigade of sepoys. Major Hay’s regiment is one of the finest in every respect that I ever saw in any country…the facility of obtaining good recruits is so great in this country, that we may share almost any numbers of native infantry”. Supported by the resources of the fertile areas of India under British control—Bengal and the Carnatic—the army was capable by the 1800s of defeating the most powerful of Indian forces and during the Napoleonic wars expeditions were sent from India to Egypt, Mauritius and Java. In 1807 Lieutenant-General Urquhart pressed Lord Grenville, the head of the British government, on the value of hiring native troops, both infantry and cavalry, in all British colonies. He argued that this would save on the dispatch of British soldiers, that the placing of such forces under British officers would accustom them to British discipline and that these units would be able to serve in any part of the world, a potent force of empire.64 There were 5,770 Indian as well as 5,344 British troops in the expedition that took Batavia, the leading Dutch position in the East Indies, in 1811. Four years later Sir Robert Brownrigg conquered the Sri Lankan kingdom of Kandy with 900 British and 1,800 Indian troops. Outside India, the British also made important gains, although it would be mistaken to think of their having any scheme for progressively greater power. Nevertheless, fears of French transoceanic schemes combined with commercial opportunities and the activities of British officers and officials to lead to a “forward policy” on many occasions. Indeed, it has been argued that after 1783 “the rôle of England in empire-building was strongly reasserted” and that a policy of imperial gain was crucial to the ideology and interests of the British elite.65 Military power allowed Britain to take a dynamic rôle in many areas of the world. In the East Indies, the force deployed in the British occupation of Java in 1811–16 contrasted greatly with the military weakness there of the Dutch in the late eighteenth century; 1812 was the year in which “the Europeans first achieved paramountcy” in Java.66 Brigadier-General Robert Gillespie, who earlier in the year had deposed the Sultan of Palembang on Sumatra, stormed the Sultan of Yogyakarta’s kraton (royal residence), despite its far larger garrison and numerous cannon. Similarly, the British enforced their power in Ceylon 203

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(Sri Lanka): having been thwarted in the Kandyan War of 1803 by guerrilla attacks, logistical problems, inhospitable terrain and disease, they prevailed in early 1815 as a result of concerted operations by independently moving columns. The Russians also made gains in this period. War with the Turks in 1806–12 led to the occupation of Moldavia andWallachia, operations south of the Danube and a peace that left Russia with Bessarabia. In the Caucasus Georgia was annexed in 1801 and this was followed up by gains in the region from both Turkey and Persia. The deficiencies of the Russian army, which included inadequately developed support services, did not prevent it from being an effective force. The military shift between European and non-European powers thus had direct territorial results. The state of the Turkish armed forces had led Selim III to attempt reform. There were serious structural problems with the effectiveness of Turkey as a military power. These were revealed in the reports of British military observers in the early 1790s. George Frederick Koehler, a German in the British artillery, spent six months in 1791–2 studying the situation. He reported: Their resources are no doubt very great as to men, money and all kind of military stores etc. But the vices of their government, and total ignorance in the art of war, renders it next to impossible that they should be able by their own efforts to maintain their independence in Europe against the attacks of a regular European army conducted with common judgement and system…nothing which can with propriety be called a fortification. Koehler was particularly scathing about Turkish artillery: the guns are extremely imperfect as to their proportions being either a great deal too long or as much out of proportion too short…the bore is any line but straight (or a right cylinder) and they are so far from being in the center of the metal, that they are not only visible to the eye at once, but will be more than an inch thicker of metal on one side at the muzzle than on the other. The exterior forms of the guns are neither straight lengthways nor circular the other way or across. They are filed with rough files by hand and guess work but what is more remarkable…the cylinders which form the trunnions [supporting projection on each side of cannon] are never opposite to each other or upon the same axis, nor are they at right angles to the gun. This is so great a defect that it alone is sufficient to destroy every possibility of accuracy in firing…all the iron work of their carriages are excessively defective…powder very bad; shot so badly cast that the two hemispheres 204

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of which they are composed never correspond …mortars…equally defective… As to engineers…absolutely ignorant…want of system in establishing magazines in proper situations and convoys to keep them replenished…their naval artillery is very imperfect. Koehler argued that more than the acquisition of new weaponry was necessary: “a complete revolution in their government, finances, national character, mechanical arts etc must be accomplished”. He emphasized cultural traits that made military reform unlikely: “this indifference which reigns through every branch of their government both civil and military is perhaps the greatest of all their obstacles to improvement”. Defeats were blamed on providence and led to little pressure for change, and there was no equivalent to the organized discipline of European militarism: They come when they like; go when they please; have no kind of restraint, no exercise, no roll calls… They ridicule the European manner of exercising, marching etc. and notwithstanding the recent experience they have had of its effects, they think it contrary to every principle both of reason and honour that they should attempt the same themselves. Koehler subsequently added that the Turks “have no system or order in their military projects… I look upon them in their present situation in a military view to be lighter than air. I think ten thousand regular troops with a moderate train of artillery to be equal to the conquest of the whole country from Chotzim [Khotin] to Constantinople”.67 Koehler’s account accorded with that already received from naval officer Sir William Sidney Smith, who had reported the previous November: The Turks have neither fortresses, troops, artillery, magazines nor ammunition, nor any kind of means of preventing the Russians from instantly overrunning the whole country to the Danube… I cannot form any idea of what would prevent their possessing the whole course of that river. Smith also claimed that although the Turks were ready to adopt foreign military ideas they needed “European workmen in sufficient numbers to set them a going”.68 George Monro added in 1793: It appears to me a perfect impossibility that the Turks can keep possession of Turkey in Europe much longer; without the assistance of some of the 205

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European powers: or unless they made such an universal change in every department: as would occasion a thorough revolution in the Ottoman constitution. He argued that the Turks would be vulnerable to naval attack on Constantinople: the Dardanelles are at present in no respect able to oppose a fleet… where they have forts, they are so situated as to be nearly useless, either from the construction or from neglect of what is well constructed. Monro also noted that industrial problems affected Turkish naval power: they could not make cordage, cables and large anchors, while bolts and rings were manufactured only with difficulty. As a consequence, the Turks sought supplies from Western powers, a clear admission of techno-military inferiority. Sir Robert Ainslie, the British Ambassador, reported in 1793 that the Turkish government “has applied to me as usual for naval and military stores”. He itemized iron, tin bars, 100 anchors, 10,000 sheaves for pulleys, 10,000 okes (about 6,700 quarts) of paint, 22,300 shells, 45,000 round shot, 50,000 grapeshot, 20 brass mortars and their bases and carriages, 2,000 flintlocks with bayonets and 2,000 quintals of gunpowder.69 Thus the foremost European military power in 1600, and arguably still in 1660, appeared very vulnerable in the early 1790s, a consequence of the significant developments in European warfare and the states system after 1660. The overthrow of Selim III in 1807, when he sought to reform the Janissary auxiliaries, the dissolution of Selim’s new model force, the Nizam-i Cedid, and the failure of Mahmud II to re-establish control over the Janissaries in the 1810s indicated the deeply rooted ideological, political and social obstacles to Turkish military refor m. The Turkish empire owed its survival in the nineteenth century largely to intervention and diplomatic pressure by European powers concerned about the international consequences of its collapse. Ironically, Koehler was sent as head of a British mission of artillery and engineer officers and soldiers that arrived in Palestine in 1800 in response to France’s presence in Egypt. Koehler himself died of fever near Jaffa. Smith received the thanks of both Houses of Parliament and an annual pension of £1,000 for his rôle in the defence of Acre. Thus European power became an ever more insistent feature in the affairs of different parts of the world. Some schemes were fantastic, but they also testified to the sense of potential created by this power. In 1789 Richard Cadman Etches, a London merchant who acted for the Russian navy, proposed a Russian expedition to seize Suez and Basra and thus control the overland 206

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routes from Europe to India. He argued that both would fall easily, and wrote of Basra: “in so ruinous a state is the garrison that two stout ships and five hundred Europeans with some blacks would take it with much ease”70 In 1807, however, the Turkish artillery, firing stone shots of up to 800 pounds, was effective in forcing the British navy to withdraw when Sir John Duckworth’s squadron tried to force the Dardenelles.71 Tsar Paul I drew up plans for an attack on British India in 1801, and Napoleon proposed joint Franco-Russian action to the same end in 1808.72 Such schemes were most effectively checked by logistical problems and by the diplomatic or direct intervention of other European powers. Thus British naval power hamstrung Napoleon’s transoceanic schemes, while the British in turn, in conflict with non-European states, were checked most effectively by the Americans, North and South, who employed European weaponry and military techniques; although there were also substantial British successes in the war of 1812. At the battle of New Orleans on 8 January 1815 American artillery and musket fire blunted a British attack on prepared positions, with 2,000 British casualties compared to 71 among the Americans. 73 The British defeat and capitulation at Buenos Aires in 1807 was more crushing and more decisive in its results. Toussaint L’Ouverture, the Haitian general (1743–1803) who had initially fought for Revolutionary France before expelling the French Commissioners, seized Santo Domingo (now the Dominican Republic) from Spain in 1800 and thus united the island. His troops and most of his officers were black. In 1802, despite heavy losses from yellow fever, a French expeditionary force under Napoleon’s brother-in-law, General Leclerc, defeated the Haitian forces. In turn, the North Americans used superior firepower, numbers and organization, to defeat the American Indians, as with Anthony Wayne’s major victory at the battle of Fallen Timbers on 20 August 1794 after which the Treaty of Greenville opened most of Ohio to white settlers. Wayne lost 33 of his men in the battle. The Indians were put to flight by a well-aimed volley followed by a bayonet charge.74 An inability to cope with American cavalry was also cited as a reason for the Indians’ defeat, although it is important to note that they scored successes also.75 The warfare of 1792–1815 was decisive on both the European and the global scale. British maritime and Russian land power were both enhanced by the sustained conflicts of the Revolutionary-Napoleonic period. Of the islands lying off the European mainland, only Britain was both independent and a major power. This required her to concentrate on her naval forces, unlike her continental counterparts who, even if also maritime powers (most obviously France and Spain), devoted major resources to their armies. This concentration had been crucial to Britain’s success in defeating the Bourbons in the struggle 207

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for oceanic mastery in 1739–63 and surviving subsequent attempts to reverse the verdict. The distinctive feature of the post-medieval European maritime empires was their desire and ability to project their power across the globe: by the late eighteenth century, Britain was clearly most successful in doing so. This was a matter not only of military force, but also of the resources needed to supply distant armies and navies. Such operations definitely could not rely on living off the country they were in. When the British landed in Egypt in 1801 they “expected no supply from the country…we have hitherto got water— everything else is landed from the ships”.76 Once established, European forces could obtain considerable supplies overseas, especially food, but, at least initially, this was not true of most expeditions, and it was generally necessary thereafter to ship some supplies, particularly of munitions. The only non-European power able to project its strength was the newly independent USA which used European military methods, as in the attacks on Tripoli in North Africa in 1804–5. Any parallel with Russia might appear surprising. Although Catherine II revived the thrust of Russian naval power developed under Peter I, and was thus able to make Russia a force on which hopes were built or to be feared in the Mediterranean and this geographical commitment was maintained in the 1800s,77 Russia was inherently a land power, with the largest army in Europe. Aside from in the Mediterranean, Russia’s requirement for seapower was essentially local: to secure control of the Baltic and Black Seas, although in 1799 the Russians joined Britain in an unsuccessful amphibious invasion of the French-held United Provinces78 The Russian domination of eastern Europe was strengthened during the Napoleonic period. Finland was acquired from Sweden in 1809 and much of central Poland (becoming known as the Kingdom of Poland) from Austria and Prussia as part of the Treaty ofVienna (1815). And yet Russia was similar to Britain in strategic terms in one important respect, the two powers prefiguring the position of the USA and the USSR for the 1917–90 period. Both were outside Europe, able to protect their home base or centres of power from other European states, yet also able to play a major rôle in European politics. The isolation should not be overstated. With reason, the British government feared invasion on a number of occasions between 1690 and 1809. Russia was invaded by Sweden in 1708–9 and by France in 1812; attacked by Sweden in 1741 and 1788; and threatened by Prussia in 1791 and France in 1807. Nevertheless, the strategic position and military strength of Britain and Russia were different from those of other European states; and, just as they had avoided the ravages of the Thirty Years’ War, so they were to see off Napoleon and thus thwart the last attempt before the age of nationalism to remodel the 208

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European political space. The defeat of Napoleon led to a reversal of the trend towards French hegemony, which had culminated in 1810–12 with much of Europe, including the Low Countries, Hamburg, Lübeck, Genoa, Tuscany, Savoy-Piedmont, the Papal States, Trieste, Dalmatia and Catalonia being part of France and thus providing conscripts, firearms and supplies for her army; while client states, such as the new kingdoms of Bavaria, Italy and Westphalia, were similarly engorged. In 1814–15 Europe returned to the situation that distinguished it from so many of the other heavily populated regions of the world: multiple statehood. The Treaty of Vienna was designed explicitly to create, and provided for, not a balance of power, but a balance of satisfaction.79 Russia was dominant in eastern Europe, Britain on the oceans, and there was no balance of power in either sphere. Europe was divided among a number of rival sovereign powers, unable and unwilling to create any permanent system of effective co-operation. Thus the warfare of the period had reasserted a European power-system wherein the two major states were able to link military strength to the pursuit of effective goals. Within Europe the old order had been reimposed, but it was an order that had changed considerably. As always, the basic configurations of politics reflected military resources and success.

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Chapter Eight Social and political context

War was central to the politics of Europe and to the government of its states. Preparation for conflict, the conduct of war and its consequences provided an agenda of concern and activity that dominated the domestic history of European countries. The demands of military preparedness and war pressed differently upon the people of Europe, varying chronologically, nationally and socially, but they became more pressing from the late seventeenth century as the size and cost of armed forces rose and as effective conscription and militia systems replaced in part the use of paid volunteers. On the other hand, the disruptive impact of war on areas of conflict diminished because of improvements in logistics and more regularized systems of obtaining supplies from occupied territories:1 in effect enforced taxation replaced depredation. The ability to strike first and hard, as France did against the Dutch in 1672, in the Empire in 1688, and against Austria in 1733 and 1741; as Prussia did against Austria in 1740 and in the Dutch crisis in 1787; and as Britain did against Spain in 1762, produced obvious benefits for rulers who retained large peacetime armies or navies. Their actions were watched with concern by other powers and only they enjoyed a real freedom of manoeuvre in international relations. As a result, there was considerable pressure in certain states to increase the level of military preparedness, an expensive business indeed. This was particularly true of Austria, Prussia and Russia, which were increasingly bound together in anxiety and competition, leading to alliance or confrontation. Their military competitiveness ensured that their combined military preponderance in Europe increased from 1700, and especially from 1740, just as that of Austria and France on land, and of England, France and the United Provinces (Dutch) at sea had increased from the 1660s and the mid-seventeenth century respectively. Armies retained by weaker powers did not compare with those of the 210

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major states, one of the significant military and political developments of the post-1660 period being their increasing discrepancy. Peter I’s army was far larger than the 40,000 men in the Ukrainian army of Mazepa, and the Ukraine was easily overrun in 1708; although that was not only because the Ukrainian forces were inferior in numbers, but also because Mazepa attracted little active support, and because of the quick action of Peter’s commander, Prince Menshikov, in seizing Baturin, Mazepa s capital. The growth of the Austrian and Prussian armies was not matched by that of the other German states, both the cause and effect of their weakness. Hanover’s attempt to challenge Prussia for dominance in northern Germany in the 1710s and 1720s was handicapped by the failure to emulate Frederick William I of Prussia’s determined and successful build-up of military strength. Bavarian ambitions were undermined by the small size of its army: about 8,000 in 1726, nearer 12,000 by 1745. French subsidies were required to maintain greater numbers. The forces of the jointly ruled Electorate of Cologne and Prince-Bishopric of Münster were a maximum of about 7,000 in 1730 and 5,100 in 1792. In 1742 the army of the Elector of Mainz was only 4,000 strong. Many of the small forces were never used militarily and were too small to produce a field army capable of fighting a battle effectively, but their existence is a reminder of the extent to which European society was imbued with military concerns. Armies were generally seen as an essential attribute of sovereignty, while, as the largest force of men at the disposal of rulers, they were often used for unwarlike purposes. The general absence of national police forces increased this tendency, as did the fact that most police forces were small and under local control. “The Constabulary was a nullity”, a description applied to troubled Armagh in 1795,2 was equally relevant elsewhere. Troops were therefore used for many policing purposes, especially in rural and frontier areas, where police forces were generally weak and the task of maintaining order difficult, even without attempting the harder problem of enforcing laws on a systematic basis. The violence involved in some policing, and the size of possible problems, encouraged the use of troops. They were used against smugglers, often being the only effective government presence in frontier regions. The French used troops against smugglers in Dauphiné in the early 1730s and on Belle Île in 1764, and the British employed them similarly, especially on the Channel coast. They were also used against bandits, against whom police forces were often ineffective. Troops were used to maintain civil order.3 They were employed against rioters, as in Ireland in 1766, 1771 and 1772; France in 1768 and 1770; and London in 1780. Troops were also used in industrial disputes, French soldiers intervening against the Sedan clothworkers in 1750, while in Coventry in 1772 211

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troops responded to rioting by ribbon-makers against wage reductions. Though the French army was located increasingly on the frontiers and used less for police duties, it did not altogether lose this rôle, being used to terrorize Huguenots into conversion to Catholicism in the early 1680s and to enforce the cordon created around Marseilles during the 1720 outbreak of plague. Elsewhere police functions remained important and sometimes, as in Russia, increased. The Russian army administered and collected taxes, especially the poll tax introduced by Peter I in 1718, carried out censuses and acted as a police force: under Peter, Russia was divided into “regimental districts” in which units were quartered. Soldiers frequently had a rôle in the penal system as well. The danger of rebellions across much of Europe ensured that military forces had to be prepared to confront them, a task made easier by their limited regard for peasants and by their discipline. French troops suppressed revolts in the Boulogne region in 1662, theVivarais in 1670, and Bordeaux and Brittany in 1675, more effectively than the forces used against the Croquants in 1636 and theVa-Nu-Pieds in 1639. Troops could also be used for purposes that bore little relation to policing activities. Officers in the Prussian cantonal conscription system used troops for work on their estates. Similarly, rulers employed soldiers as a labour force, both for military purposes, such as the building of fortifications, and for other tasks, such as canal construction for Peter I, draining marshes in Prussian Pomerania, and General Wade’s road-building in Scotland. The use of soldiers for big construction projects in part reflected the fact that they were the largest group of disciplined men accustomed to working together. Armies could be utilized for social action. The Bavarian Minister ofWar, Benjamin Count Rumford, an American loyalist who experimented with the properties of gunpowder, was keen to use the army in the 1780s to introduce useful improvements. He established military gardens, with the intention of publicizing new agricultural methods and crops, particularly the potato, and regimental schools that would also educate the children of the local peasantry. The non-military use of troops could lead to conflict with civilians, as when garrison labour was employed in weaving or shoe repair. In some cases, as with harvesting, it could lead to a conflict between military and civilian purposes. Camp followers were regarded as a serious problem by civilian authorities. More generally, the recruitment, accommodation and activities of troops were less segregated than is the case today in much of the world, although, at the time of writing, the armed forces play a major rôle in the mainland Chinese economy. Troops were especially important in garrison towns, a list of which included all capital cities. In Paris in 1789 a key rôle was played by troops permanently based there, who lived and worked among the populace, pursuing 212

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civilian trades when not on duty, and were thus subject to all the economic and ideological pressures affecting the people.

Monarchs and armies Armies served functional purposes, but they were also of value for their part in enabling rulers and, to a lesser extent, aristocrats to fulfil the rôle attributed to them and which they were generally willing to discharge. Military leadership was an important rôle, one sanctioned by history, dynastic tradition and biblical examples. In 1788 the Austrian Chancellor, Prince Kaunitz, tried to oppose this. Urging Joseph II to abandon the personal command of his armies against the Turks, he drew attention to examples of rulers, past and present, who left such command to their generals, “in order to concentrate on what is properly the job of the ruler, the government and general surveillance of the state they have received from Providence”. Joseph was, however, reluctant to follow Kaunitz’s advice. Some rulers displayed little interest in war or military affairs. Ferdinand VI of Spain (1746–59) concentrated on domestic matters and stayed neutral in the Seven Years’ War. Portugal was at peace from the War of the Spanish Succession until invaded by France in 1807, with the exception of a brief war in 1762, and some fighting with Spain in what is now Uruguay in 1777. Denmark was at peace from 1720 until the Napoleonic Wars, with the exception of a brief attack on Sweden in 1788. Yet military reviews were still important for the Danish court. Many rulers saw war as their function and justification as defenders of their subjects and inheritance, a source of personal glory, dynastic aggrandizement and national fortune. The celebration of the royal hero as victor was part of a long European tradition of exalting majesty in its most impressive function, the display of power. This display ranged in style and form from awarding medals to the foundation of chivalric orders for the nobility under royal patronage. War was not the only sphere in which such display could occur, but it was one that best served the aggressive dynastic purpose that illuminated so many of the states of the period. Philippe Quinault’s libretto for Lully’s 1677 opera Issus presented Louis XIV as Neptune and referred to recent Mediterranean successes. Handel’s Dettingen Te Deum was written and first performed at the Chapel Royal in London in 1743. Two years later, Louis XV was present when Ghent surrendered and he received the keys of the town. Many rulers served in person. Louis XIV accompanied the army under Turenne that invaded the Spanish Netherlands in 1667, took part in the attack on the United Provinces in 1672 and enjoyed commanding on other 213

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occasions.4 The army that relieved Vienna in 1683 was led by John Sobieski, King of Poland, and included Elector John George III of Saxony. William III beat James II at the Boyne (1690), a musket ball shooting the heel off his boot and another shattering one of his pistols; and fought the French at Steenkirk (1692) and Neerwinden (1693). He narrowly escaped death from a French cannon ball in 16915 and was in command at the successful siege of Namur (1695). Victor Amadeus II of Savoy-Piedmont “was always at the head of his troops” on the battlefield, as at La Marsaglia (1693), Staffarda (1690), and Chiari (1701). He led the crucial cavalry charge that broke through the French lines at the battle of Turin (1706). Charles XII was exposed to great danger at Poltava.6 Philip V was with the army that involved Portugal in 1704, and both he and his rival for the throne of Spain, the Habsburg “Charles III”, later the Emperor Charles VI, commanded their forces in person for part of the war in Spain. Louis XV was at the sieges of Freiburg (1744) and Antwerp (1746), and at Fontenoy and Lawfeldt. Emulation of ancestors, former monarchs and contemporaries played a rôle in the desire to fight. The only significant exceptions were female rulers, though they also could benefit by association with victory, as did Anne of Britain with the War of the Spanish Succession, and Anna, Elizabeth and Catherine II of Russia. Maria Theresa rallied Hungarian support politically at the outset of the War of Austrian Succession, although she did not lead them on campaign. Victories against the Turks in the war of 1768–74 gave Catherine the prestige to compensate for the questionable circumstances of her accession. Frederick II’s dedication to military success was no greater than that of Charles XII, or Peter I, who led his forces as far as the southern shores of the Caspian and Copenhagen, where in 1716 he saw the ovens constructed to cook bread for the troops before going to the palace. None the less, Frederick s successful combination of political and military leadership made a great impression, not least on his rival Joseph. He led his army throughout his reign, not only winning spectacular victories (although he fled from Mollwitz, his first battle) but also drilling the army and conducting major manoeuvres in peacetime. Frederick’s approach to war was certainly not a casual one, of war as a courtly activity, a royal sport, a variation on hunting, as it had appeared in some of the literature of the sixteenth century. The chivalric notion of personal honour and exemplary reputation that had led royal commanders to place themselves in the van had been replaced by a more prudent generalship, although Frederick was exposed to fire on several occasions and bruised when a canister ball hit him in the chest atTorgau (1760). The wounding of a royal general, or his death, like Charles XII’s in 1718, was now exceptional, although the cult of bravery led to emphasis on royal fortitude under fire, such as George II’s at Dettingen. The future Duke Charles V of Lorraine was badly 214

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wounded at the battle of Seneffe (1674). Five of Landgrave Karl of HesseCassel’s sons served in the War of the Spanish Succession: two fell in battle. One of George III’s sons, Ernest, Duke of Cumberland, who served against the French with Hanoverian forces in 1793–4, 1806 and 1813–14, acquired wounds and a justified reputation for bravery. Napoleon was wounded by a spent ball at the successful storming of Regensburg in 1809. Non-royal commanders died in large numbers. Turenne was killed by a cannon ball at the battle of Sassbach (1675). Frederick II lost many of his generals, for example Field Marshal Schwerin in 1757. Both Montcalm and Wolfe died at Quebec in 1759. Saxe exposed himself to considerable danger, by taking part in charges, at Lawfeldt (1747). 7 The Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars led to an increase in mortality among commanders. This owed much to the zeal of French generals—of the 2,248 general officers in the French army in 1792–1815, 230 were killed, while half of the marshals were wounded,8 although, among France’s opponents, Abercromby died in 1801, Nelson in 1805, the Duke of Brunswick in 1806, Moore in 1809 and Scharnhorst in 1813. Wellington was hit by a spent round at the battle of Orthez (1814). This was still going on in the American Civil War where over half the Confederate generals were either killed or wounded in battle. A demonstration of bravery was important. Belle-Isle led his troops “sword in hand” at the battle of Sahay (25 May 1742), the sole pitched battle fought by France in her Bohemian campaign of that year and the engagement in which Choiseul first fought. 9 But, in addition, technical skill was increasingly required, a development that encouraged the publication of military literature. Frederick II saw war as a duty to best be discharged through training and dedication, an attitude that he sought to disseminate in Prussia. His poem the Art of war, written in 1749, revealed Frederick’s belief in the need for detailed planning and cautious execution. It was reinforced in detailed confidential works of instructions written for his officers. The military rôle of monarchs was not therefore confined to war. It encompassed peacetime supervision of the army, a task that provided rulers with excitement, a sense of mission and an opportunity to display themselves in a favourable light as leaders. Louis XIV greatly enjoyed reviews of troops, which served as controlled displays of his power. Less powerful monarchs had similar tastes. Ferdinand IV of Naples spent much time on manoeuvres. In February 1777 he did so for the benefit of the visiting Frederick II of HesseCassel, who himself enjoyed drilling troops.10 Monarchs who did not take a personal rôle in campaigns were, nevertheless, active as heads of their armies: George III was concerned about troop dispositions and devoted much effort to ensuring that the rules of army promotion were respected. He also reviewed the fleet at Portsmouth in 1773 and 1778. 215

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A definite trend towards the wearing of uniform at court can be discerned. Officers of the French and Austrian armies were often reluctant to wear uniforms in the first half of the century. However, after 1763 Joseph II and his successors always wore uniform at court and on formal occasions. Joseph, who copied Frederick II’s fashion for rulers wearing military uniform, changed into his field marshal’s uniform when dying. This trend was resisted only at the courts of Madrid and Versailles.11 Military uniform was the clothing of order and obedient hierarchy; it encapsulated the participation of nobles in the service state, the systematization of the personal links binding nobilities and monarchs. Much of the European nobility saw its rôle as that of military service, more particularly leadership, and much recruiting was for long a matter of aristocratic officers recruiting in areas of influence; 280 Venetian nobles, equivalent to a quarter of the Great Council, died in the war in Crete against the Turks in 1645–69.12 Of the 499 nobles present at the Swedish riksdag of 1693, 248 held military appointments, and in the Swedish and Russian Tables of Ranks, military service was highly esteemed. As many as 35 per cent of the old Danish nobility and 17 per cent of the new were in military service in 1700, compared with only 6 and 8 per cent respectively in the civil service. In 1765 the percentages for Sweden where, in accordance with the definition of noble privileges for 1723, all senior official and military posts were reserved for the nobility, were 73 per cent and 14 per cent, and 72.8 per cent of the noble Estate in Sweden in 1771–2 were or had been army officers.13 Frederick II reduced the percentage of commoner officers in the Prussian ar my. Military posts sometimes entailed the governorships of strategic fortresses or provinces. Aristocratic military service was proportionately less important in western Europe, especially in Britain, Spain and Italy, other than Piedmont, but was still of consequence: contemporaries stressed the pressure for war from the nobility at the time of France’s entry into the Wars of the Polish (1733) and Austrian (1741) Successions. The decline in the size of the French army after Louis XIV’s reign and the general peacefulness of western Europe during 1763–89 played a rôle in reducing the opportunities for noble service in France, with arguably serious political consequences. Senior military positions in the British and Spanish armies were dominated by the aristocracy. Under Napoleon, the identification of ruler, political elite and military activities reached a new height. It was thanks to the army and his military fame that Napoleon rose to the top: there was no hereditary principle involved in the creation of the greatest of the European continental monarchies of the period. In literature and art Napoleon projected a heroic military image: one of the warrior rather than the military bureaucrat. Paintings such as Antoine Gros’ 216

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portrait of Napoleon at the Bridge ofArcole provided crucial images for the Napoleonic legend. The position of Marshal of France, abolished in 1793, was re-established in 1804, 26 being created, and favoured generals were ennobled and enriched. Napoleon s Minister ofWar and Chief of Staff, Marshal Berthier, who became Pr ince of Neuchâtel in 1806 and mar r ied the niece of Maximilian I of Bavaria in 1808, had installed at Grosbois, formerly the seat of one of Louis XVI’s brothers, a Galerie des Batailles containing paintings of battles Napoleon had fought in. Napoleonic propaganda, such as the Bulletins of the Grande Armée, was employed to sustain a sense of military greatness, though it was very much one that concentrated on the army, not the navy, and especially on the army commanded by Napoleon. Its distortions led to the phrase “to lie like a bulletin”. In 1804 Napoleon instituted the Legion of Honour, an award for civilian or military service that was widely given for the latter. The identification of states with military activities could foster a sense of patriotism. Local privileges were, however, vigorously protected against military infringement, particularly if they prohibited or limited recruitment, billeting and providing other resources for the armed forces. Pacifist sentiment was not widely expressed. The intellectuals and religious figures who condemned aggressive war, such as the French philosophes, appear to have enjoyed little support. The Dutch Patriots in the 1780s criticized attempts to expand the army as a needless and dangerous extravagance. Like American and British critics of a standing army, however, these arguments were not so much pacifist as designed in large part to support pressure for a “popular” army: in the British, Württemberg and American cases, a militia. During the War of Independence (Peninsular War), Spanish liberals praised the guerrillas and directed their anti-militarism against the army.14 Republics and limited monarchies tended to have small armies. This was true of Britain and Poland, and of Sweden during the Age of Liberty (1719– 72). In 1717 the financial burden of the Great Northern War led the Polish Sejm (Diet) to budget for only 24,000 units of pay and that year the army was probably no larger than 16,000 men.15 Yet the size and quality of the British navy or of the Swiss regiments in foreign service suggest that it would be foolish to regard the small ar mies of such states as evidence of any disinclination to fight. The enthusiasm with which Britain attacked Spain in 1739, and Sweden attacked Russia two years later indicates that powerful and well-armed rulers were not the sole instigators of war.

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Recruitment Enthusiasm for victory did not solve the major problems of manpower and finance. There was no uniformity in recruitment practices, and many reasons why soldiers would wish to serve.16 Recruitment could be either voluntary or compulsory, the latter either conducted in an organized fashion or quite arbitrarily. The importance of voluntary service varied considerably, but its existence reflected the appeal of the military life for many. For petty nobles it provided a career; for many soldiers it represented an escape from the burdens of civilian life, or the constraints of local society on young adult males. A valuable source of voluntary enlistment, matching what happened in many spheres of civilian life, were the sons of soldiers and sailors, providing, for example, most of the recruits for the French engineers in the first half of the century. Military service was particularly valuable for exiles, with large numbers of Irish Catholics going into the French army, and Scottish Jacobites being recruited for the Russian navy. Many responded to traditional links—Scots in the service of the Dutch; Germans in that of Venice, France and the Dutch; and Swiss in that of France. In the case of officers and skilled soldiers, such as gunners, foreign soldiers might be recruited for their expertise. Dutch naval officers found posts abroad, particularly in the fleets of Russia, Venice and Portugal; and in 1788 the American naval hero John Paul Jones became a Russian rear-admiral. Foreign troops were felt to be more reliable politically, particularly in the event of domestic disorder. Encapsulating what could be the isolating effect of military life, their use lessened the need to ar m the population. Nevertheless, the willingness of governments to arm their own people is more striking than their occasional hesitation. Training in the use of arms was given to what must have appeared the most unreliable members of the community, some of them criminal in their background. Crown serfs in Russia were allowed to hand over vagrants, landless labourers and other unwanted members of their villages to the army as a first stage in meeting their conscription quota. The willingness of governments to arm the poor and the marginal members of the community is an indication of their confidence at the time in the essential stability of the social order, as mirrored in the armed forces, and in the ability of discipline to direct action and attitudes. This was vindicated by the infrequency of army and naval mutinies. In 1779, however, a proposal in Britain to raise a regiment composed of smugglers was rejected as being dangerous.17 Across much of Europe conscription was conducted in an arbitrary fashion, the very antithesis of bureaucratic practice. The formation of a reserve of 218

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seamen was proposed without result in Britain: the Register Act of 1696, which provided for a voluntary register of seamen, proved unworkable and was repealed in 1710. The British navy continued to be dependent on impressment by the press-gang, a system that was not only arbitrary (although by law it applied only to professional seamen), but also only partially successful. On numerous occasions naval preparations and operations were handicapped by a lack of sailors. Possibly there was no better option, in the absence of any training system for the navy, and given the difficulty of making recruitment attractive when length of service was until the end of the war.18 Britain never seriously considered paying sailors more, and in light of contemporary concern about naval expenditure this is not surprising. The French and Spanish registration of potential sailors led to evasion and a shortage of seamen: the Inscription Maritime, founded in 1681 and based on censuses of sailors carried out in 1668–73, was more effective than the Spanish system. The Russian use of conscription had limited success, force proving a poor way to obtain marine skills among a population where they were rare. As with much else, the ability to conceive a system was not matched by the capacity to make it work. Methods similar to the press-gang were frequently used in European armies, not least in the recruitment of criminals, as by the Danes in 1762. Prussian recruiters would appear at Sunday church services and seize the men afterwards. It was also common for powers to recruit troops, often forcibly, from weaker neighbours. The Prussians did this, especially in Mecklenburg and Saxony in the eighteenth century, and in 1743 the Duke of Zweibrücken complained of similar conduct by his powerful French neighbour.19 Frederick II resorted to the expedient of forcing captured enemy troops to serve. A major consequence was serious desertion, although that was a problem for all armies and navies, however they were raised.20 Of the Saxon infantry in 1717–28, 42 per cent deserted. However, the Saxon rate was only about 3 per cent a year, and desertion rates as a whole were lower than is normally stated; it was recruiting difficulties that made them so serious. Partly in response to the drawbacks of forcible recruitment, as well as to the need for larger armies or for sustaining a certain size of force in the face of the attrition produced by long wars, various states experimented with more systematic methods of recruitment. These conscription systems were furthest developed in pre-Revolutionary Europe, in central and eastern Europe, possibly reflecting the greater authority of governments in these regions and their greater indifference to personal liberties. To work effectively, these systems entailed considerable regulation of the population, which could only be achieved by means of the co-operation of the nobility, the local arm of government across most of Europe. As the bulk of the officer corps was drawn from the same group, recruitment fitted into the same command structure. 219

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Governments regulated and benefited from this system and it was less dangerous for them than the older practice of nobles raising mercenary bands and directing them as they pleased. The system also had hidden costs, leading to a degree of inflexibility and underlining the aristocratic control of the army. Behind the systems of conscription and the militarist patina that they gave to society, with their passes, registers, annual inspections, musters, lists and numbers painted on houses, was the constant reality of aristocratic domination of society. The Danish ordinance of 1701 reintroducing a militia system based on conscription tied the conscript to a specific locality during his six years of service, giving landowners opportunities to apply pressure on troublesome peasants. In 1710 the militia was used to reinforce the Danish army. The largest system of conscription was that established in 1705 in Russia, where serfdom lessened the scope of voluntary enlistment. Service was lifelong before 1793, when it was cut to 25 years. Manpower was summoned for army and navy by proportional levies on the male population; initially one man for every 20 peasant households. The clergy were exempted, and local and occupational concessions freed specified groups. Wealthy peasants could buy themselves out, but others responded by flight. The system was not extended to White Russia, the Baltic Provinces and the Ukraine until the reign of Catherine II. Because of the large numbers of troops that could be raised, Russia, though keen to recruit foreign officers, did not make a practice of hiring foreign mercenary units. Landlords were also expected to serve, either in the army or in government. Peter’s insistence on this was, however, relaxed under his successors, and in 1762 the formal obligation to serve was abolished. In Prussia it proved necessary during the reign of Frederick I to move towards compulsory service. In 1693 each province was ordered to provide a certain number of recruits. This was achieved by conscription, largely of peasants.21 A cantonal system was established between 1727 and 1735. Every regiment was assigned a permanent catchment area around its peacetime garrison town, from where it drew its draftees for lifelong service. The name of every duty-bound male was entered on a roll at birth, though there were a large number of exemptions, including the nobility; localities including Berlin; and workers deemed important, such as apprentices in many industries and textile workers. As a consequence, most common soldiers were from the rural poor. The regiments were required to be up to strength for only the few weeks of the spring reviews and summer manoeuvres. For the rest of the year, once over the initial training period, native troops were allowed to return to their families and trades, and even when at the garrison town they were permitted to pursue civilian occupations. In a similar fashion, artillery horses were registered and then distributed among the peasantry, their care secured by inspections. Prussian landlords were also expected to serve. 220

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The Prussian cantonal system, which was extended to Silesia in the 1740s, worked reasonably well, leading to a high military participation rate among the population and a manpower pool deep enough to allow some selectivity. It created a stable and predictable link between regiments, and reserves of manpower in specific areas, that generated significant parish and regional solidarity in companies and regiments, and also encouraged a sense of feudal obligation among the officers. Whereas in the mid-eighteenth century Austria and Russia had between approximately 1.1 per cent and 1.5 per cent of their population in the army, the percentage for Prussia was 4.2. Although different figures are suggested in various sources, it is clear that Prussia had a far higher percentage of its population under arms than other major powers. The major growth in Europe’s population in the second half of the century ensured that greater numbers were available for recruitment. In so far as comparisons can be made, the proportion under arms in the period 1670–1790 was comparable with that in the nineteenth century, and often exceeded it: German peacetime establishments were proportionately higher than in the nineteenth century. Even mobilization in 1914 did not exceed the proportion mobilized by some states in the eighteenth century; it was only through the subsequent call-up of reservists that eighteenth-century totals were exceeded.22 Like Prussia, Sweden used a cantonal system, with, in addition, from the 1680s, farms in royal hands used to support soldiers who worked there in peacetime. Regular training and periodic musters were designed to keep the troops effective, and, as a result of the successful operation of this system, Charles XII inherited a well-trained army of 90,000 men in 1697.23 After his death in 1718, however, the army deteriorated as more of an emphasis was placed on farming: there was a lack of political will for a strong army in the Swedish “Age of Liberty”.24 In 1743 there was a peasant rising in Dalecarlia against conscr iption and overseas service. The Swedish navy relied on conscription in the seventeenth century, but towards its close adopted a new system based on voluntary recruitment with sailors living and working in coastal regions as members of peasant society.25 In 1762 Frederick II of Hesse-Cassel divided his territory on the Prussian model into recruiting cantons, one for each regiment. Recruiting by force was prohibited, and exemptions given either by payment or by occupation. The major towns were exempt, as were propertied farmers, taxpayers, apprentices, salt-workers, miners, other important workers, domestic servants and students. Eligible men were listed and checked annually.26 In 1730, a year of peace but also of war preparations, Hesse-Cassel had 1 in 19 of the population under arms. France and the Habsburg territories neither required such a proportion, because their reserves of manpower were larger, nor could they have obtained 221

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it. Uniformity in the Habsburg military system was lessened by the privileges of particular areas. The Habsburgs encountered fewer difficulties outside Hungary. A reserve system was introduced in 1753, and short-service voluntary enlistment in 1757. In 1771 Joseph II introduced a system of conscription to Austria and Bohemia, by which each district was expected to raise a certain number of troops, although there were important exemptions, including those who were most economically productive. Thus the army was largely a force of poor peasants. The artillery, however, was a more select force, composed of volunteers able to read and write German and therefore more easily trained for a higher level of skill.27 Conscription was imposed in Spain in 1704, but thereafter the defects and unpopularity of the system ensured that it was only used when there were insufficient volunteers. Until 1776, when evasion and unpopularity led the Spanish government to abandon it, conscription was by sorteo (ballot) among unmarried men aged 17 to 36, although with many exemptions, including skilled workers. This was supplemented by the leva (levy) by which convicts, beggars and vagrants could be conscripted. After 1776 Spain relied on Spanish and foreign recruits, which did not provide the numbers required. The availability of skilled labour was also protected in Britain. In 1757 an officer recruiting in the industrial centre of Nottingham was instructed by the War Office not to enlist apprentices.28 Native French forces were raised voluntarily in the case of the regulars, and from 1688 by conscription, among unmarried peasants aged 18 to 40, in that of the militia: from 1703 married men were also conscripted. The recruitment of volunteers was handled by officers, generally nobles, who recruited in their seigniory of origin. From 1693 militia units were sent to fight in war zones and from 1701 the militia sometimes served as a source for the replenishment of the regular army. In 1706–12 this compulsory transfer was achieved by the drawing of lots, which helped to make militia service very unpopular. Abolished in 1715, but resumed in 1726, militia service was affected by exemptions and these were maintained vigorously. The 1743 proposal to extend the militia to Paris led to widespread concern and the production of critical handbills, but it was extended there two years later. Exemptions for military service were permitted on occupational grounds to the benefit of those employed in trade, manufacturing and public functions. Very few peasants were exempt, but peasant hostility helped to ensure that a disproportionate number of recruits for the army were urban poor, especially from Paris. The army was young: on the eve of the Revolution half of the infantry of the line were aged 18 to 25, and 90 per cent of soldiers in all arms were aged 35 or younger. The majority of those serving in 1789 had been recruited as recently as 1783–5; only a fifth had 10 or more years’ service. Though desertion was a major 222

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problem, the French system worked well in mobilizing large numbers for the army in time of war, a vital political resource. In the early 1750s the section of the army composed of French soldiers, 130,000, was only slightly more than 0.5 per cent of the population; there were also 40,000 non-French troops, mostly from Switzerland, together with other units from Germany and Ireland. During the Seven Years’ War (1756–63), however, men under arms, including the navy, at any one moment totalled 2.5 per cent, while the need to replace losses ensured that, despite what has been described as “a manpower crisis”,29 in total nearly a million Frenchmen, about 4 per cent of the pre-war population, served.30 This was achieved with relatively minor economic effects, suggesting that recruits were men whose labour could be reallocated with least difficulty, thanks to the significant underemployment of the rural population.31 For some, military service operated as a form of migration comparable to that of movement to the towns. War also led states to raise more troops abroad. This was particularly important for Britain, France, Prussia and Spain. The latter two recruited many foreigners as individuals, while Britain and France hired entire units. The British hired troops from German rulers, the French from these rulers and from the Swiss Confederation. In 1758 the French signed an agreement with the Prince-Bishop of Basle by which a regiment was to be recruited in the bishopric. Thus the French failure to establish a conscription system during their ancien régime identical with that of Prussia or Russia reflected the success of their own methods, itself a testimony to the size of the population of western Europe. This was further underlined by the ineligibility on health grounds of much of the population. The French army drew its troops from the 16–40 age group, recruiting first among unmarried males: between a quarter and a half of this group were ineligible because they were infirm or too short, the latter often a product of poor nutrition.32 Revolutionary and Napoleonic France, however, required far larger numbers. As with the Americans in the War of Independence, it swiftly became clear that volunteers alone would not suffice. By the start of 1793, there were too few troops left and the Revolutionary government had to turn to new measures. The levée en masse of 1793 was akin to modern systems of mass conscription, and it raised land warfare to a new level of scale. The mutual impact of warfare and growing national feeling both in France and elsewhere was crucially linked to the expansion of conscription. Conscription and desertion became more obvious features of the social impact of war, and Alan Forrest has argued that opposition to conscription contributed to general warweariness.33 This also affected areas conquered by, annexed to and allied with France. Territorial control was directly linked to military manpower. Thus the Austrian Netherlands, which had not had conscription, provided nearly 223

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100,000 men between 1798 and 1809, when annexed by France. In 1797 the French army fell to 365,000 effectives, but in 1798, under the Jourdan-Delbrel law, the obligatory nature of military service in France was extended: 400,000 new soldiers were raised to face the Second Coalition. The new system was designed to produce a stabler system than the levée en masse. The Napoleonic military machine owed much to the troops provided by allied powers. French control over them was often direct: in 1809 the Saxon army was put under the command of Marshal Bernadotte and designated the IX Corps of the Grande Armée. Conscription was introduced by Napoleons ally Bavaria in 1804–5 and extended there in 1809 and 1812. In 1802 Napoleon introduced conscription to the Italian republic; in 1809 Marshal Joachim Murat, the new French ruler of Naples, introduced it. When the French occupied Portugal in 1807 they raised 14,000 men, and the Tyrolean rebellion of 1809 was in part a result of the introduction of conscription. When Napoleon annexed the Kingdom of Holland in 1810, conscription was introduced: a very unpopular measure. Within France the burden of conscription became insupportable from 1812, especially in 1813 when 900,000 conscripts were called, and evasion and desertion became far more serious, especially in the Auvergne and the south west. The larger numbers involved in Napoleonic warfare ensured that conscripts played a greater rôle than in pre-Revolutionary conflict, in which volunteers and mercenar ies had played a proportionately larger part. Everywhere, the search for more soldiers and sailors was stepped up. In Austria exemptions for recruitment were tightened up in 1804, although the Hungarian Diet rejected conscription and the militia.34 In America, worried by a shortage of sailors, Thomas Jefferson advanced a scheme for a naval militia in 1805, but it was defeated by Congress in 1806.35

Conditions Recruitment was not helped by the harshness of military life. The behaviour of soldiers, the attitude towards them of some officers (a group with whom they had little social affinity) the prevalence of desertion and the need for drill led to discipline that was often savage, although the recently applied description of “a military slave system” is inappropriate. 36 The limited effectiveness of weapons ensured the need, both for troops and warships, to come close to the enemy in as large a number as possible. This was a frightening experience: the enemy could be seen clearly and the noise of the battlefield was terrifying. The complicated loading dr ill for the weapons of the period required the 224

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conditioning of soldiers to repeat them under stress and the effect of weapon fire depended on the standard of fire discipline. Drill and discipline were therefore military necessities, on both land and sea. In war, casualty rates were often high. Peacetime conditions were less dangerous, but the desire to prepare troops for future conflict was not always matched by care for them. The debilitating effect of peace was stressed frequently by commentators, particularly military ones who disliked peacetime economies and the lessened stress on training. Peacetime life could be boring for soldiers and it was difficult to maintain weapons and uniform to the standards judged necessary, while unsanitary living conditions encouraged poor health and disease. Pay was another problem, and British sailors, who suffered low pay, often in arrears and reduced by compulsory deductions, were not alone in having their morale affected. Soldiers were a marginal group in society, affected by the general antipathy to the army as “outsiders” to the settled communities that defined social norms;37 although this exclusion was tempered by the large number of troops who pursued civilian trades. The very slow spread of barracks, an expensive device, ensured that troops were frequently quartered among the civilian population. In Russia it was not decided to house all Moscow’s soldiers in barracks until 1765. There were very few barracks in Britain prior to 1793, although there were many in Ireland by the later 1720s.38 This policy made it harder to maintain discipline and train troops, and even to develop a distinctive military attitude. It also made relations with civilians and their attitudes to soldiers a serious problem, although the use of barracks did not end these problems.39 The use of barracks did become more important in Austria, France and Prussia in the second half of the eighteenth century, but barracks were often unpleasant for the soldiers, frequently being gloomy, damp and insanitary. It is important not to exaggerate the miseries of military life. The military were a section of the community which governments needed and cared for, albeit at a basic level. Their basic sustenance was provided in peacetime. In the 1720s every French soldier in Roussillon received daily about one kilogram of bread, 500 grams each of vegetables and meat, 25 grams of fat and one litre of wine or beer. From 1803 the Batavian [Dutch] Republic supplied each soldier daily with a pound of bread, 40 the basic minimum that virtually all governments seem to have provided. Though pay was generally low and was frequently delayed, troops were the largest group paid by governments. Training seems to have created a bond generally not only between soldiers but also between troops and their officers. This was especially strong in the cavalry. The good relationship between officers and men in the French cavalry was because of the paternalistic values of the officers and the high status of the ordinary cavalry trooper. Cavalry (except dragoons and hussars) were generally 225

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better disciplined. They attracted a “higher quality” of recruit, who received higher pay; virtually all were volunteers. Discipline in general was not always as savage in practice as it was in theory, a common feature of the law enforcement of the period, which was often tempered and episodic. In the Prussian army a relatively small number of hard cases received a disproportionate number of the most severe punishments. Frederick II used the death penalty very sparingly. The most vivid accounts of the system’s horrors were selective treatments composed by critics; although even the most junior officer could inflict harsh penalties. Though force played a rôle in the British navy, particularly in recruitment, sailors were part of a trained unit whose operational effectiveness reflected teamwork and high morale rather than coercion. British sailors were paid far less in wartime than those in the merchant navy,41 and there was an annual desertion rate of about 7 per cent. On the other hand, the food was of reasonably high quality, efforts were made to limit sickness, and the ship was the essential unit of sailors’ loyalty. Captain William Bligh’s failure to establish an acceptable practice of command, to grasp the “dialectics of dominance and deference” led to the mutiny on HMS Bounty in 1789.42 Russian discipline appears to have been more savage, possibly due to the practice of treating soldiers as possessions of their officers, and the fact that service divorced them from their native communities. There were many instances of flight and selfmutilation in order to avoid conscription in the Russian army. Defeat at Rossbach (1757), was followed by the introduction of stricter discipline on the Prussian model in the French army. There were also signs of improvement in the treatment of soldiers, however. It is unclear how far these were linked to humanitarian change in civil society and the advocacy of enlightened writers within and outside the military, but there does seem to be a link with the discussion of humane punishments in civil and military society. Stephen Payne Adye, Judge Advocate in the British army in America during the War of American Independence, tried to apply the ideas of Cesare Beccaria, Charles, Baron de Montesquieu and Emmerich deVattel to his legal work. A growing emphasis on the value of the motivation of individual soldiers was doubtless of consequence in their treatment; and medical and hospital provision improved from the late seventeenth century. Russian regulations for officers issued in the 1760s emphasized the need for positive motivation in the process of transforming peasants into soldiers. Utilitarian uniforms, that were easier to maintain, were introduced for the Austrian infantry in 1767. In the 1780s Rumford improved the pay and conditions of Bavar ian soldiers, and in 1764 France created invalidity pensions. Ex-soldiers were provided with a pension and allowed to live in a residence of their choice, the first true attempt by the monarchy to provide old soldiers with the 226

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possibility of gaining an honourable place in society. It is true that French policy towards veterans and the administration of the Hotel des Invalides in Paris, founded by Louis XIV to care for them, displayed paternalism, favouritism and the effects of social privilege, that reforms and financial expedients were inconsistently applied and that occasional royal visits and the distr ibution of largesse could not satisfy the needy veterans. The Invalides catered only for a minority of officers and men. It was not until the pension law of 1790 that all veterans of the same rank received equitable treatment based on length of service. 43 However, pre-Revolutionary policy towards ex-soldiers did reflect humanitarian considerations. These were also displayed in the French navy in the 1780s. In 1781 pay and bonuses were increased, travelling expenses for recruits introduced and the decision taken to award half-pay to injured novice sailors who could no longer earn their living. In 1782 the government assumed the responsibility for lodging naval conscripts before their assignment and began work on a naval hospital at Toulon. In 1784 a regulation dealing with food for the navy insisted that the flour should be of the finest quality, the wine of good stock and that the sailors were to receive pork and beef. In the same year the naval minister, Charles, Marquis de Castries, reformed the system of naval conscription. The size and regularity of pension payments were improved, and naval discipline was eased. In 1786 Castries projected an increase in the number of hospitals as well as higher salaries for doctors and surgeons, and he raised the overall number of medical officers in the ports. The ordinances of 1786 reflected the fruitful fusion of regulation and science that characterized some of the most progressive legislation of the period. Castries issued specific orders for washing down the ships with cleansing agents. He established a standard uniform for the first time and took steps to ensure that ships were equipped with medicines and with foodstuffs necessary for recuperating sailors. Castries also instigated research by the Royal Society of Medicine in Paris on the preparation and preservation of foodstuffs on board ship, the nutritional requirements of seamen, ship ventilation, and the treatment of a number of illnesses.44 There was little time to implement Castries’ programme before the Revolution. Many ancien régime reforms in the treatment of soldiers and sailors, such as the Dutch measures of the early 1730s to improve conditions for sailors, or those of 1741 to limit typhus, were of scant effect. In his last illness Frederick II declared: “In the course of my campaigns all my orders relating to the care of the sick and wounded soldiers have been badly observed.” 45 The British Medical Board was founded during the Revolutionary Wars, but the poor handling of the fevers that ravaged the 1809Walcheren expedition led to the sacking of all its members. 227

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In contrast, John Pringle (1707–82), doctor to British armies from 1742 and eventually physician to the army, advanced the subject of military medicine and, in his Observations on the diseases of the army (1752) established the importance of prevention, particularly better sanitation and ventilation, in dealing with diseases such as dysentery and typhus. James McGrigor, Surgeon General in the Peninsular War from 1811, presided over an impressive hospital system while, during the War of American Independence, Admiral Rodney took great care of the health of his fleet in the West Indies. He supported the efforts of the fleets doctor, Gilbert Blane, who emphasized the use of fresh fruit to deal with scurvy, and the importance of sanitation. Blane’s recommendation of lemon-juice as a weapon against scurvy led to its routine use in the British navy from 1796, 46 and deaths due to the disease fell dramatically. Improvements in the health of seamen made it easier to maintain blockades. Dominique Larrey (1766–1842), who held the senior medical post in Napoleon s Grande Armée, designed the first purpose-built field ambulance. The reforms demonstrate the need to avoid any idea that the position of troops, any more than that of peasants, was uniform, or that their treatment was always bleak. The fighting qualities of the armies and navies that confronted the forces of Revolutionary France did not stem simply from discipline or belief in their cause. They also reflected a professionalism born of training and responsible treatment. Discipline was enforced within the context of cooperation between officers, non-commissioned officers and men.47 A sense of self-value as a soldier played a rôle among Prussian troops, as did education and exhortation by regimental chaplains.48 Recent research on the mid-eighteenth century has shown that the customary view of life in the British navy as a matter of rum, sodomy and the lash is misleading. The superior quality of British seamanship has been attributed recently not to naval tyranny, but to the relatively harmonious nature of maritime life. Officers had to persuade and reward; respect was the lubricant of obedience, and the ratings were aware that they possessed scarce and valuable skills. The nature of the seaman’s profession contrasted with that of the soldier in requiring the constant exercise of trained initiative in circumstances where they could not be properly supervised. This ruled out any rigid system of control, as did the problem of manning the fleet in a society that would not condone the treatment of sailors like galley slaves. However, the British navy suffered serious mutinies in 1797. This is attributed to a worsening in material conditions in the navy. Inflation ground away the value of the naval wage, and the coppering of ships removed the chance of frequent leave. The mutinies were essentially conservative affairs, aiming, like popular riots throughout the century, to restore a just system that had formerly obtained.49 228

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Primarily because of financial problems, governments in the period were frequently unable to sustain the military conditions they sought. This was even more the case in wartime. It is instructive to consider the army of the wealthiest power: Britain. The army regulator: or, the military adventures of Mr. John Railton (London, 1738) revealed “the frauds practised by the officers” and “the miseries of enlisted men”. The list of grievances was well documented, and the work created a major scandal. Work on the Continent tested the logistics of British military power. In August 1748 Edmund Martin reported from near Eindhoven in the United Provinces about fevers and deaths in the British forces: “the wetness of this country, the bad stagnated ditch water we drink, the bad food…we lie in barns and open cowhouses with little or no straw … The Hollanders in their camp and garrisons are the same; I hear the French are too”.50 Campaigning in Westphalia in October 1760, Captain William Fawcett, then aide-de-camp to the British commander, the Marquis of Granby, revealed his sympathies: “the poor soldiers lying upon the damp, and without straw, occasions great sickness in the army”. A year later, Major General George Townshend painted a far from optimistic, let alone heroic, account of operations in Westphalia: “this exhausted, pillaged, infected country where nothing but chicanes in war and misery and despair to the inhabitants remains. Our army is really a scene of indiscipline, weakness and almost despondency. I never saw so much pillage and desertion; it is general”.51 It was not only a case of the difficulty of maintaining acceptable conditions in the war zone. Units preparing for dispatch could also be in poor condition. Major General Studholme Hodgson complained about some of the troops in his expedition against Belle-Île in 1761: “They have had no clothing sent them, and are all in rags.”52 Logistics were indeed a serious problem. The combination of a military system that both on land and at sea placed a premium on numbers; a slow, cumbersome and labour/animal/ship-intensive supply system; and economies yielding only a modest surplus, created serious problems and ensured that the condition of the troops was always a serious problem. Generals relied both on the supplies they could obtain, by whatever method, from the regions they campaigned in, and on those obtained from their home-bases. This was a system of shifts and expedients, and when it broke down the troops suffered. Campaigning in the Low Countries, one of the more favourable areas for supplies, Sir John Ligonier wrote in 1746 of “the want of all things both horse and wagons for our [supply] train…we have had four days long marches over a country less plentiful than the Highlands, and yesterday and today the soldiers are without wood or straw and [have] extreme bad water”.53 It is scarcely surprising that the brutality of conditions led to harsh conduct. It was expressed relatively rarely in terms of ill-discipline towards superiors and 229

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more in a degree of barbarity that is often a part of military life, with its pressures and mortality. The commonplace and coarsening nature of the latter was captured by Fawcett in 1760: the destruction of two or three hundred poor wretches, is looked upon as a mere trifle here, wherever there is any point to be carried, which is thought of consequence…500, or 1,000 fine fellows, in full bloom and vigour ordered to march up, to possess themselves of an eminence, an old house, or windmill, or other particular piece of ground, with a certainty of one half of them at least, being, at the same time, exposed to certain death, in the doing of it. Nevertheless this does, and must happen almost daily, so long as the war lasts.”54 Among officers there was a pseudo-chivalry that reflected their sense of being members of a common profession and, in large part, aristocratic caste, and conventions of proper conduct. In 1758 Lord George Sackville reported of the British and French in Germany: Our sentinels and advanced posts are in perfect harmony and good humour with each other, they converse frequently together and have not yet fired though numbers of officers frequently go out of curiosity much nearer than there is any occasion for.” Fawcett noted in 1759 that British and French advanced posts in Germany were very close: which afford a sight extraordinary enough, to those who are not acquainted with the formalities of war. The French, to do them justice, are a very generous enemy, and above taking little advantages: I myself am an instance of it, amongst many that happen almost daily: Being out a coursing a few days ago, I was galloping at full speed after a hare…into a thicket, where they had a post of infantry, and must infallibly have been taken prisoner, if the officer commanding it had not showed himself; and very genteelly called out to stop me. We frequently discourse together.”55 Such episodes have tended to characterize the image of pre-Revolutionary warfare, but they are less than the full picture. Aside from the actual horrors of the fighting, including the use of case-shot against close-packed rows of soldiers, or the slaughter of fleeing infantry by cavalry, and the primitive nature of medical care, soldiers were often brutal in their treatment of each other and of civilians. Armstrong Starkey has argued that “Good manners sometimes did 230

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serve as a restraint upon violence in the eighteenth century. But those manners originated not in broad cultural, artistic and religious movements of the age, but in the traditional evolving code of the aristocratic warrior who sought to preserve his humanity in the midst of mankind’s most barbaric acts.” The storming of fortifications was sometimes followed by the slaughter of the defenders, as at Bergen-op-Zoom in 1747. After Dettingen (1743), British soldiers plundered and stripped their dead and wounded compatriots.56 The victorious Prussians at Katzbach (1813) did not take prisoners, although in general the treatment of prisoners improved from the late seventeenth century, and in the eighteenth century the exchange of prisoners on a large scale became common. Nevertheless, the horror of war remained. A participant at Minden (1759) wrote to his father: I thought formerly I could easily form an idea of a battle from the accounts I heard from others, but I find everything short of the horrid sense and it seems almost incredible that any can escape the incessant fire and terrible hissings of bullets of all sizes, the field of battle after is melancholy, four or five miles of plain covered with human bodies dead and dying miserably butchered dead horses broken wheels and carriages and arms of all kind…in the morning on the ground in our tents was pools of blood and pieces of brain.”57

Popular participation in warfare In general, warfare was more savage both in eastern Europe, where religious and ethnic differences appear to have increased human cruelty, and when regular forces fought irregulars. When the Russians stormed Izmail in 1790 they slaughtered 26,000Turkish soldiers and civilians. Cossacks killed about 10,000 French soldiers trapped at the Beresina river in 1812. Soldiers were not trained for irregular warfare and many reacted to it brutally, destroying the homes and crops of peasants in order to wreck their fragile economy. Examples include the Protestant rising in the Cévennes mountains of southern France in 1702–11,58 Tyrolean peasant resistance to a Bavarian invasion in 1703, the subsequent Bavarian peasant rising against Austrian occupiers, the suppression of the Jacobite Highlanders in Scotland in 1746, the Genoese popular rising that drove out Austrian occupiers in 1746, warfare in Corsica, and the suppression of the Irish rebels in 1798, for example at Wexford. Irregulars could also resort to brutal methods, as at Coimbra in 1810 when Portuguese irregulars slaughtered French wounded who had been left when the town was 231

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evacuated. Two years earlier, the French had massacred the hostile population of the Portuguese town of Evora. The argument that war was relatively “civilized” and had little impact on the civilian population can be countered by consideration of guerrilla action. The Swedes who overran Courland in 1658 met serious guerrilla warfare, with peasant units mounting a number of counter-attacks, one of which temporarily overran the western suburbs of Riga in 1659.59 Regular troops were harassed by guerrillas in Piedmont, Dauphiné and Spain in the 1690s, and Hungary and Spain in the 1700s: Jean Jacques Pelet, first aide-de-camp to Massena, drew comparisons between the War of the Spanish Succession and the Peninsular War.60 There was intensive Polish guerrilla warfare against the Swedish invaders in 1703–4, while in 1707 Swedish demands for food in the Masurian woods region of Poland led to guerrilla warfare. Guerrillas played a considerable rôle in Iberian operations during the War of the Spanish Succession. Marshal Berwick, who led the Franco-Spanish invasion of Portugal in 1704, was surprised by the weakness of organized resistance, but equally amazed by the vigour of the peasants in attacks on his communications and in fighting back in the villages. Their success in exacerbating his supply problems played a major rôle in inducing Berwick to retreat. Guerrillas were used by both sides during the operations in Spain. The French responded harshly to the activities of irregulars, killing the survivors when Xátiva fell in 1707 and leaving no building standing except the church.61 There was partisan warfare in Bavaria and Bohemia in 1742. The Genoese patriotic rising against Austria led to partisan warfare by local peasants and the use of workers’ brigades. Priests were trained to fight, and women worked on the fortifications. Guerrilla warfare is not always easy to define, but its existence calls into question the habit of typecasting eighteenth-century military operations in terms of the predictable combat of regular units. Such warfare also directs attention to popular political consciousness. If guerrilla action was often provoked by the exactions of hostile soldiers, that does not mean that they necessarily defined this consciousness. Thus, pre-Revolutionary warfare should not be divorced from a popular context in order to contrast it with its Revolutionary and Napoleonic successor. Popular participation in the latter was doubtless more sustained,62 but it was not unprecedented. Nor was it only a case of guerrilla warfare. Popular forces also engaged in battle, as in the attack on loyal troops at Sedgemoor in western England in 1685. In 1708 a popular revolt delivered Bruges and Ghent to the French. In the Swiss Civil War of 1712 Zurich had 20,000 of its citizens under arms. Two years later, Barcelona was defended with popular fervour against overwhelming Franco-Spanish attack. A worker-militia manned the walls and resisted several assaults successfully. Popular enthusiasm was sustained 232

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by religious fervour, including the use of sacred relics. Although the bombardment began on 11 May 1714 and attacks on 25 July, Barcelona did not fall until 13 September of that year.63 Yet the largely continuous nature of warfare and preparation for apparently imminent conflict in 1792–1815 did alter the scale of this participation, as did a more intense and nationally focused degree of politicization that was aroused in support of and in opposition to Revolutionary and Napoleonic France. There was a significant difference between the degree of popular engagement and participation in warfare in Ireland in 1689–91, Spain during the War of the Spanish Succession, and Poland in the 1700s, and the situation in those countries during the Revolutionary and Napoleonic period. Guerrilla warfare was not the same as greater public participation. Much of the latter took place clearly within the social framework. There was a world of difference between peasants attacking the French in the Abruzzi or the Tyrol, or Serbs rising against the Turks, and the government-directed appeals for popular support in, for example, Prussia in 1813. The state monopoly on organized violence was maintained in those states that retained independence during the period. In contrast, in countries where the government was overthrown, for example Spain, or where there was a popular reaction against alien rule, as in Ireland and Serbia, autonomous, mass patriotic action was a central feature. In military terms this ensured that “European” warfare remained far from uniform. The degree to which popular action could lead to military triumph, as opposed to success in particular engagements, was limited. Victory for “anti-foreign” forces in the future United States (1775–83), in Spanish America, Spain, and in the Greek War of Independence (1821–30), owed much to foreign assistance, crucially naval support, and it also reflected a determination to create and sustain regular forces. Nevertheless, in social terms these wars reflected a central feature of warfare: its capacity to create new demands and expectations of the social and political orders at the same time as it reflected and sustained them.

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Chapter Nine Conclusions

War as forcer of innovation? War is often seen as a forcer of innovation, technical in the form of new weaponry, governmental and social in the shape of the demands created by the burdens of major conflicts. A number of scholars, including Michael Roberts and Brian Downing,1 have advanced theories about the governmental consequences of military change, and the “fiscal military state” has been seen as a development of the period,2 but there are methodological questions in assessing the impact of such change. It is clear that the pressures of sustained war and military expenditure were not new. It is not clear how the pattern of causality should be discerned between military and political-governmental changes, and, as already suggested in this work, it can be argued that many military changes reflected political-governmental counterparts rather than causing them. Nevertheless, the degree of administrative sophistication required to sustain global military systems and, in particular, large specialized battle fleets, was considerable. As is to be expected, it is clear that these systems encountered many problems. For example, the correspondence during 1781–3 between Lord Macartney, Governor of Madras, and Sir Eyre Coote, the British Commander-in-Chief in India, is full of references to financial and other problems.3 Their correspondence with others addressed similar themes. In July 1781 Macartney claimed that: the extreme scarcity of grain, the impractability of getting means of drawing or carrying artillery, provision, and baggage, so as to enable the army to quit the borders of the sea, by which it is now supplied, the want of cavalry essential to oppose Hyder with real effect, and our total inability to pay the army, which is about three months in arrears, afford but a gloomy prospect to an attentive observer.4 234

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That November he wrote, “If you don’t send us a large sum of money very soon, we must disband our army. The arrears are great.”5 Similar remarks have been made by generals throughout history. These are a warning, however, against exaggerating the military-administrative capabilities of the states of this period. Such capabilities were greater for European states in 1800 than they had been three centuries earlier, although this was not the consequence of a smooth progression, but rather of accelerated development from the late seventeenth century, particularly in Austria, Britain, Prussia and Russia. The financial and logistical mechanisms required to sustain the substantial armies and navies of the per iod created pressures for effective and efficient administration. Greater administrative capability had direct military consequences. The Austrian conquest of Hungary from 1683 owed much to the creation of a series of magazines.6 Canal construction under Frederick II was related to the movement of supplies to and from magazines. One aspect of improved military-administrative capability was mapping. Large-scale military surveys grew in importance from the eighteenth century. The Austrians, who ruled Sicily between 1720 and 1735, used army engineers to prepare the first detailed map of the island. Frederick II had Silesia mapped. Following the suppression of the Jacobite rising of 1745, Lieutenant-Colonel David Watson, Deputy Quartermaster-General, assisted by William Roy, between 1747 and 1755 prepared a map of Scotland based on a military survey. A major military survey of Bohemia was begun in the 1760s and completed under Joseph II. The French military engineers of the period, particularly Pierre Bourçet, improved the mapping of mountains, creating a clearer idea of what the alpine region looked like.7 Nevertheless, the expanded armed forces of the period developed in a fashion that did not challenge the social reality of societies organized around the principles of inegalitarianism and inheritance. Larger armies brought more opportunities to nobles,8 who benefited both from the assumption that they were naturally suited for positions of command and from the fact that in general this was the case. Thus, armies were not forces “outside” society, but rather reflections of existing patterns of social control and influence and the beliefs that gave cohesion to these patterns. Even in the Dutch Republic, the European state least subject to aristocratic influence, over 60 per cent of colonelcies in the eighteenth century were in the hands of members of the nobility, with the remainder held by members of the urban elite.9 This essential stability matched that of the conduct of war, for, although weaponry improved, there was no technological breakthrough and no fundamental alteration in the nature of war. The basic possibilities of military action were restricted by technological constraints, particularly in terms of 235

CONCLUSIONS

mobility and firepower, and the absence of any superiority, comparable to that which separated Western from non-Western peoples, was a factor preventing the seizure of European hegemony by any one state; although the British achieved naval dominance in the last decade of the Napoleonic war. There was no rapid technologically driven change comparable to that for the past 130 years. As a result, successful military powers were able to operate without altering their economic system or developing a sophisticated industrial capacity Though armies and war were important, military pressure for economic and technical change was limited. The social context of warfare was challenged in the late eighteenth century. British officers in the War of American Independence were surprised by the modest social status of some of the rebel officers. A military ethos centred on the ideal of patriotic citizen-soldiers played a major rôle in that conflict, as well as the French Revolutionary Wars and the Polish rising of 1794. In practice, most of the officers in these forces were men of property—in the War of Independence many were “Americanized gentry”—but the developments of the Revolutionary period suggested that armies could serve to overthrow established social and political lineaments rather than to reflect and strengthen them. This toppling of much of the ancien régime was achieved by the armies of Revolutionary France and in so doing they were certainly revolutionary. The revolutionary ethos and purposes of the French army in the 1790s transformed the political context of military activity, freeing greater resources for warfare. Military expenditure accounted for 58 per cent of the French budget in 1813 and 80 per cent of that of allied Naples.10 Nevertheless, pre-Revolutionary European states could also spend much of their resources on military forces and warfare. Although Russia lacked a central treasury and had only limited central control over expenditure, it has been estimated that in 1725, 64.5 per cent of state expenditure was on the army and navy, and in 1734, 71.4 per cent.11 The percentages subsequently declined—to 53 per cent in 1763, 38.5 per cent in 1773 and 37.4 per cent in 1796—but in absolute terms expenditure on the armed forces rose markedly.12 Over 20 per cent of Spanish governmental expenditure in the 1780s was devoted to the navy.13 A new emphasis on expertise in command led to a greater stress on formal education, offering a set of priorities that did not correspond directly to those of the social hierarchy. Efforts to improve officer training in the eighteenth century, mainly in the latter half, were an important innovation and one of the main pointers to the future of that age. A warfare of scientific professionalism was implied by the formal education that was provided increasingly. Military education was most developed for artillery, engineering and naval officers; far less so for infantry and cavalry officers. Britain and France established naval 236

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academies in 1729 and 1752 respectively; the Dutch an artillery school in 1735; France an engineering academy at Mézières in 1748. British engineers were trained at the Royal Military Academy founded at Woolwich in 1741. A Spanish artillery school was established at Segovia in 1764 and a military academy founded at Zamora in 1790. Nevertheless, many officers continued to receive little formal training, and high birth and the qualities this was reputed to betoken and inculcate continued to be the merits most in demand. During the Napoleonic period, military schools were founded in Bavaria and the Netherlands and an engineering school at Naples. Napoleon founded the Ecole Spéciale Militaire de Saint-Cyr in 1802, to train officers, and devoted much time to its syllabus. Some 4,000 officers were trained there between 1805 and 1815. Napoleon also reorganized the Ecole Polytechnique in 1804 and the rôle of mathematics in military education increased. Staff Colleges for training officers were established in Britain (Sandhurst) and Prussia (Berlin). The Royal Naval Academy at Portsmouth was reorganized, expanded and renamed the Royal Naval College in 1806.14 Training for ordinary soldiers remained rudimentary, a matter of introductory instruction at the depot and on the march. Selim III’s attempts to change the Turkish military system in the same period indicated another important aspect of change: the pressure on nonWestern societies to Europeanize their armed forces in order to cope with European military power. Again, the extent of this process should not be exaggerated. China and Japan displayed no interest in changing their military systems, and nowhere was there anything to compare with the modern situation in which, at vast expense, Third World states seek to acquire state-ofthe-art technology and training. Nevertheless, Selim’s abortive reforms, as well as the use of European officers and weapons by Indian rulers, were indications of the global pressure for change that was to stem from the extension ofWestern military power. It is in this global context that European military history is of most consequence. The technological changes that were to bring clear military superiority for the Europeans, such as steam power on sea and land, breech-loaders, rifled guns and iron hulls, did not occur until after 1815,15 but already they were dominant in the major sphere of long-distance communication: the seas of the world. In addition, the fundamental shift within Europe against the Turks occurred from the 1680s onwards. Military strength was central to this rise in Western power, both within and outside Europe, and was to give shape to the nineteenth century world order.

237

Notes

Chapter One 1. Watson to Holdernesse, 7 Oct. 1755, 15 Feb. 1756, 10 Mar. 1756, George Thomas to Mr Thomas, 15 Feb. 1756, BL, Eg. 3488 ff. 81–2, 140–1, 157–8, 216–17; S.Gordon, The Marathas 1600–1818 (Cambridge, 1993), p. 190. 2. R.D.Bathurst, Maritime trade and Imamate government: two principal themes in the history of Oran, in The Arabian peninsula, society and politics, ed. D.Hopwood (London, 1972), pp. 99–100, 102; Narrative of engagement off Cape Dobbs, 1–2 Feb. 1775, IO. H/ Misc./126. pp. 6–18; Hughes’ journal, 8 Dec. 1780, IO. Mss. Eur., F. 27, p. 174; Macpherson to 2nd Earl of Sherburne, 17 Apr. 1783; Bowood, papers of 2nd Earl, Box 56. 3. J.E.Wills, Maritime Asia, 1500–1800: the interactive emergence of European domination, American Historical Review, 98, 1993, p. 105. 4. M.Roberts, The military revolution, 1560–1660 (Belfast, 1956), reprinted in Essays in Swedish history, ed. M.Roberts (London, 1967), pp. 195–225. 5. B.S.Hall and K.R.De Vries,The “military revolution” revisited, Technology and Culture, 32, 1990, p. 501. 6. M.D.Feld, Middle-class society and the rise of military professionalism. The Dutch army 1559–1609, Armed Forces and Society, 1975; H.Ehlert, Upsprünge des Moderne Militärwesens: Die Nassau-Oranischen Heeresreformen. Militärgeschichtliche Mitteilungen, 2, 1985, pp. 27–49. 7. G.Parker, Warfare, in New; Cambridge modern history XIII (Cambridge, 1979), pp. 201–4. 8. C.J.Rogers, The Military revolutions of the Hundred Years’ War, Journal of Military History, 57, 1993, pp. 241–78. 9. J.P.Smaldone, Warfare in the Sokoto caliphate (Cambridge, 1977), p. 14. 10. C.Dalrymple, A military essay containing reflections on the raising, arming, cloathing and discipline of the British infantry and cavalry (London, 1761), p. 57. I owe this reference to Armstrong Starkey. 11. On the impact of linguistic description, H.E.Bödeker and E.Hinrichs (eds), AlteuropaAncien Régime-Frühe Neuzeit. Probleme und Methoden der Forschung (Stuttgart, 1991), pp. 11–50. A good recent summary of the general model is offered by W Doyle, The old European order 1660–1800 (Oxford, 1978, 2nd edn, 1992), e.g. pp. 295–6. 239

NOTES 12. J.M.Black, Ancien régime and enlightenment, European History Quarterly, 22, 1992, pp. 247–55. 13. The most recent study is J.Glete, Navies and nations. Warships, navies and state building in Europe and America, 1500–1800 (Stockholm, 1993). On iron guns, ibid., pp. 25–6. On the Dutch navy, see most recently, J.R.Bruijn, The Dutch navy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (Columbus, S.Carolina, 1993). On the French navy, see most recently, G. Symcox, The navy of Louis XIV, in The reign of Louis XIV, ed. P.Sonnino (Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey, 1990), pp. 127–42; and Philippe deVillette-Mursay, Mes Campagnes de mer sous Louis XIV avec un dictionnaire des personnages et des batailles, ed. M.Vergé-Franceschi (Paris, 1991); B.Lavery, The ship of the line. I: The development of the battlefleet, 1650–1850 (London, 1983), p. 53. 14. D.Loades, The Tudor navy (Aldershot, 1992); K.R.Andrews, Ships, money and politics. Seafaring and naval enterprise in the reign of Charles I (Cambridge, 1991); M.Duffy, The foundations of British naval power, in The military revolution and the state 1500–1800, ed. M. Duffy (Exeter, 1980), pp. 49–85; B.Capp, Cromwell’s navy. The fleet and the English revolution, 1648–1660 (Oxford, 1992); F.Fox, Great ships. The battlefleet of King Charles II (London, 1980); D.Davies, Gentlemen and tarpaulins: the officers and men of the Restoration navy (Oxford, 1991); J.Ehrman, The navy in the war of William III 1689–1697 (Cambridge, 1953). 15. J.P.Merino Navarro, La armada Española en el siglo XVIII (Madrid, 1981). 16. Modelski and Thompson, Seapower in global politics, 1494–1993 (London, 1988), pp. 27–61 and esp. 62–70; Glete, Navies and nations, pp. 198, 217, 226, 311, 522–698. On the Swedish navy in 1800, Glete, p. 610; A List of the Swedish Navy in August 1800, BL, Add. 59080, f. 109. 17. For some useful comparisons for the Austrian army in 1740–75, P.G.M.Dickson, Finance and government under Maria Theresia 1740–1780 (2 vols, Oxford, 1987), II, p. 355. 18. State of the Portuguese army enclosed in Mello, Portuguese envoy in London, to Earl of Egremont, Secretary of State for the Southern Department, 15 Dec. 1761, PRO 30/47/ 2. On the Spanish army, Benjamin Keene, British envoy in Spain, to the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary of State for the Southern Department, 7 Apr. 1734, PRO, SP, 94/119. On the Russians, Frederick II to Klinggraeffen, 28 May, 8 June 1754, Politische Correspondenz Friedrichs des Grossen (46 vols, Berlin, 1879–1939) X, 342, 346; Charles Fraser, Secretary of Legation in St. Petersburg, to Sir Robert Murray Keith, 31 May 1788, BL, Add. 35540, f. 249. 19. C.C.Sturgill, The French Army in Roussillon, 1716–1720, in Adapting to conditions. War and society in the eighteenth century, ed. M.Ultee (Tuscaloosa, 1986), pp. 16–25; J.Chagniot, La Rationalisation de l’Armee Française après 1660, in Armées et diplomatie dans l’Europe du XVIe siècle (Paris, 1992), pp. 97–108. 20. Mathews to Newcastle, 17 Feb. 1744, Mill St. House, Iden Green, papers of Edward Weston. I should like to thank John Weston-Underwood for permission to consult these papers. 21. Parker, The military revolution. Military innovation and the rise of the west, 1500–1800 (Cambridge, 1988), p. 126. Aside from the works he cites, it is also useful to consult T.M. Barker, Double eagle and crescent: Vienna’s second Turkish siege and its historical setting (Albany, New York, 1967); J.Berenger (ed.), Les relations Franco-Autrichiennes sous Louis XIV. Siege deVienne (1683), (proceedings of Saint-Cyr colloque 1983); Barker, New Perspectives on the Historical Significance of the “Year of the Turk”, Austrian History Yearbook, 19–20, 1983–4, pt 1, pp. 3–14. 240

NOTES 22. See, most recently. A.Balisch, Infantry battlefield tactics in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries on the European and Turkish theatres of war: the Austrian response to different conditions, Studies in History and Politics, 3, 1983–4, pp. 43–60. 23. R.Frost, The Polish—Lithuanian commonwealth and the “military revolution”, in Poland and Europe: historical dimensions. I: Selected essays from the Fiftieth Anniversary International Congress of the Polish Institute of Arts and Sciences of America (forthcoming). 24. See recently, B.Menning, G.A.Potemkin and A.I.Chernyshev: two dimensions of refor m and the military frontier in imper ial Russia, in The Consortium on Revolutionary Europe, Proceedings, 1980; C.Duffy, Russia’s military way to the west. Origins and nature of Russian military power 1700–1800 (London, 1981), pp. 27, 49– 53, 168–78, 185–9; L.Hughes, Sophia. Regent of Russia 1657–1704 (New Haven, Connecticut, 1990), pp. 197–203, 206, 211–17; V.Aksan, The one-eyed fighting the blind: mobilization, supply and command in the Russo-Turkish war of 1768–1774, International History Review, 15, 1993, pp. 221–38; A.S.Donnelly, The Russian conquest of Bashkiria, 1552–1740: a case study in imperialism (New Haven, Connecticut, 1968). 25. C.Finkel, The administration of warfare: the Ottoman military campaigns in Hungary, 1593– 1606 (London, 1988). See, more generally, H.Inalcik, Military and fiscal transformation in the Ottoman empire, 1600–1700, Archivium Ottomanicum, 6, 1980, pp. 283–337. 26. W.E.D.Allen, Problems of Turkish power in the sixteenth century (London, 1963). 27. A.C.Hess, The forgotten frontier: a history of the sixteenth-century Ibero-African frontier (Chicago, 1978). 28. Fielding, Coffee-house politician (1730) I, pp. iii, iv; II, p. xi. 29. J.M.Hill, The distinctiveness of Gaelic warfare, 1400–1750, European History Quarterly, 22, 1992, pp. 323–45. 30. A.Cohen, Palestine in the eighteenth century. Patterns of government and administration (Jerusalem, 1973), pp. 104–11; R.Tapper, The tribes in eighteenth and nineteenth century Iran, in The Cambridge history of Iran VII (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 513–18; D.Morgan, Medieval Persia 1040–1797 (Harlow, 1988), pp. 150–51. 31. J.F.Richards, The Mughal empire (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 288–9; IO. Mss. Eur. Orme OV 219, p. 28; 10. H/Misc/126, p. 15. 32. Gordon, Marathas, pp. 134, 164–6, 192; IO. H/Misc/198, pp. 103–4, 112, 36; IO. Mss. Eur. Orme OV 219, pp. 40–1, 44, 27; R.G.S.Cooper, Wellington and the Marathas in 1803, International History Review, 11, 1989, pp. 31–6. A thoughtful global overview is provided by Parker, Europe and the wider world, 1500–1750: the military balance, in The political economy of merchant empires, ed. J.D.Tracy (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 161–95. 33. A more positive assessment is provided by Hughes, Sophia, p. 203. 34. A.Bennigsen, Un mouvement populaire au Caucase au XVIIIe siècle, Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique, 5, 1964, pp. 159–97; M.B.Broxup (ed.), The North Caucasus barrier. The Russian advance towards the Muslim world (London, 1992), pp. 3, 75. 35. J.Forsyth, A history of the peoples of Siberia. Russia’s north Asian colony 1581–1990 (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 81–2, 144–6, 149. Very few regulars were stationed in Siberia, J.P. LeDonne, Ruling Russia. Politics and administration in the age of absolutism 1762–1796 (Princeton, New Jersey, 1984), pp. 279–80. 36. D.J.Weber, The Spanish frontier in North America (New Haven, Connecticut, 1992), pp. 166, 213–14, 220–4, 258, 247; W.A.Beck and Y.D.Haase, Historical atlas of the American west (Norman, Oklahoma, 1989), pp. 17–18; T.H.Naylor and C.W.Pilzer, Pedro de Rivera and the military regulations for northern New Spain, 1724–1729 (Tucson, Arizona, 1988); R.D.Edmunds and J.L.Peyser, The Fox wars. The Mesquakie challenge to New France (Norman, 1993). 241

NOTES 37. R.Gray, Portuguese musketeers on the Zambezi, Journal of African History, 12, 1971, pp. 531–3. 38. J.K.Thornton, The art of war in Angola, 1575–1680, Comparative Studies in Society and History, 30, 1988, pp. 360–88, and Africa and Africans in the making of the Atlantic world, 1400–1680 (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 124–5. 39. R.Fisher, Arms and men on the northwest coast, 1774–1825, British Columbia Studies (London, 1976), pp. 3–18; J.B.Townsend, Firearms against native arms: a study in comparative efficiencies with anAlaskan example, Arctic Anthropology, 20, 1983, pp. 1–33. 40. C.R.Boxer and C.de Azevedo, Fort Jesus and the Portuguese in Mombasa 1593–1729 (London, 1960), pp. 59–73, 81–3; J.Kirkman, Fort Jesus (Oxford, 1974), pp. 4–5. 41. K.C.Chaudhuri, Anglo-Nepalese relations from the earliest times of the British rule in India till the Gurkha War (Calcutta, 1960), pp. 68–70; J.K.Fairbank (ed.), The Cambridge history of China, X (Cambridge, 1978), p. 103; V.T.Harlow, The founding of the second British empire 1763–1793, II (London, 1964), pp. 355–6; R.Bonney, Kedah 1771– 1821 (Oxford, 1971), p. 100. 42. Anon, to Anon., 20 Aug. 1758, BL, Eg. 3444, f. 211; Colonel Richard Worge to Charles Townshend, Secretary at War, 5 Nov. 1761, PRO, WO, 1/319, p. 131. 43. B.P.Lenman, The transition to European military ascendancy in India, 1600–1800, in Tools of war. Instruments, ideas, and institutions in warfare, 1445–1877, ed. J.A.Lynn (Urbana, 1990), pp. 119–20; P.M.Malone, Changing military technology among the Indians of southern New England 1600–77, The American Quarterly, 25, 1973, pp. 48–63, and The skulking way of war. Technology and tactics among the Indians of New England (London, 1991); Forsyth, Siberia, p. 144; S.Subrahmanyam, The Portuguese empire in Asia 1500–1700 (Harlow, 1993), pp. 256–60. 44. Boxer and Azevedo, Fort Jesus, p. 64. 45. Bathurst, Maritime Trade and Imamate Government, in The Arabian peninsula, ed. Hopwood, pp. 100, 103. 46. J.F.Searing, West African slavery and Atlantic commerce. The Senegal river valley, 1700– 1860 (Cambridge, 1993), p. 21; R.A.Kea, Settlements, trade, and politics in the seventeenth-century Gold Coast (Baltimore, Maryland, 1982), pp. 130–64; R.S.Smith, Warfare and diplomacy in pre-colonial West Africa (London, 1976). 47. P.Avery, Nadir Shah and the Afsharid legacy, in The Cambridge history of Iran, VII (Cambridge, 1991), p. 38. 48. W.J.Koenig, The Burmese polity, 1752–1819 (Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1990), pp. 22–5. 49. Cohen, Palestine in the eighteenth century, p. 291. 50. S.C.Tucker, The Jeffersonian gunboat navy (Columbia, South Carolina, 1993), p. 175. 51. J.R.Gibson, Otter skins, Boston ships, and china goods: the maritime fur trade of the northwest coast, 1785–1841 (Montreal, 1992), pp. 220–4; R.Fisher and H.Johnston (eds), From maps to metaphors: the Pacific world of George Vancouver (Vancouver, 1993), p. 158. 52. A.W.Crosby, Ecological imperialism. The biological expansion of Europe, 900–1900 (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 236–7. 53. Gordon, Marathas, p. 168; Lenman, The weapons of war in eighteenth-century India, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, 46, 1968, pp. 33–43. 54. A.Vandal, Le Pacha Bonneval (Paris, 1985); S.Gorceix, Bonneval Pacha (Paris, 1953); Baron deTott, Mémoires sur les Turcs et Tartares (Amsterdam, 1784). 55. M.C.Ricklef, War, culture and economy in Java, 1677–1726 (The Hague, 1990); Wills, Maritime Asia, 1500–1800, American Historical Review, 98, 1993, p. 99. 56. L.Y.Andaya, Interactions with the outside world and adaptation in southeast Asian 242

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65.

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society, 1500–1800, in The Cambridge history of southeast Asia, ed. I.N.Tarling (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 380–95. Patna: journal of Colonel Alexander Champion, IO, H/Misc/198, pp. 35–6, journal of Captain Harper, IO, Mss. Eur. Orme OV 219, pp. 26–30; Buxar, Champion, pp. 99–107, Harper, pp. 39–44; A.M.Khan, The transition in Bengal, 1756–1775: A study of Saiyid Muhammed Reza Khan (Cambridge, 1969); Cornwallis to Sir Archibald Campbell, 12 Apr. 1788, PRO, 30/11/159, ff. 123–4; C.A.Bayly. The British military-fiscal state and indigenous resistance. India 1750–1820, in An imperial state at war. Britain from 1689 to 1815, ed. L.Stone (London, 1994), pp. 346–7. A.Faure, Les Français en Cochinchine an XVIIIe siècle. Mgr. Pigneau de Behaine (Paris, 1891), p. 123–7; G.Taboulet, La geste française en Indochine, 2 vols (Paris, 1955–6), I, pp. 161–279; P.Pluchon, Historie de la colonisation Francaise. I. Le premier empire colonial (Paris, 1991), pp. 760–4. Cornwallis to Campbell, 7 Jan., 11 Oct. 1787; John Shore, Cornwallis s replacement as Governor-General, to Cornwallis, 4 Oct. 1787, PRO, 30/11/159, ff. 23, 83–4, 122, f. 34. Cornwallis to Henry Dundas, Commissioner of the Board of Control for India, 5 Aug., 12 Nov. 1790, PRO, 30/11/151, ff. 54, 64. Josias Du Pré to Robert Orme, 10 June 1769, IO, Mss. Eur. Orme OV. 30, pp. 125– 8; Cornwallis to Pitt, 3 Dec. 1791, PRO, 30/11/175, f. 19. F. and M.Wickwire, Cornwallis. The imperial years (Chapel Hill, 1980), pp. 147, 152, 162–3; Gordon, Marathas, p. 168. William, Lord Grenville, Foreign Secretary, to Smith, 19 June 1792, Bodl. BB, 41, f. 6. G.E.Rothenberg, Napoleon’s great adversaries. The Archduke Charles and the Austrian army 1792–1814 (London, 1982), p. 58 (quote); and The art of warfare in the age of Napoleon (Bloomington, Indiana, 1978), pp. 21–2; Menning, Russian military innovation in the second half of the eighteenth century, War and Society, 2, 1, 1984, pp. 23–41; I.R.Christie, Samuel Bentham and the Russian Dnieper flotilla, Slavonic and East European Review, 50, 1972, pp. 187–96; W.C.Fuller, Strategy and power in Russia 1600–1914 (New York, 1992), pp. 158–66. E.Gibbon, The history of the decline and fall of the Roman empire, ed. J.B.Bury (7 vols, London, 1896–1900), IV, p. 167.; H.Elton, Empires and bandits: the late Roman empire in Gaul and the British empire in India, in The 12th Oklahoma comparative frontiers studies volume ed. D.Miller (Norman, Oklahoma, forthcoming). M.Giraud, A history of French Louisiana. I. The reign of Louis XIV, 1698–1715 (Baton Rouge, 1974), pp. 33–4, 39–41, 45, 214, 218–21, 329, 353; J.Higginbotham, Old Mobile. Fort Louis de la Louisiane 1702–1711 (Mobile, 1977). Weber, Spanish frontier, pp. 166, 220. G.E.Sanders, The Spanish defence of America 1700–63 (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Southern California, 1974); R.Harding, Amphibious warfare in the eighteenth century. The British expedition to the West Indies 1740–1742 (Woodbridge, 1991), pp. 154–60; J.R. Booker, Needed but unwanted: black militiamen in Veracruz, Mexico, 1760–1810, Historian, 55, 1993, p. 259. See also J.C.M.Oglesby, England versus Spain in America, 1739–48; The Spanish side of the hill, Canadian Hist. Assoc., Historicl Papers, 1970, pp. 147–57; C.I.Archer, The army in Bourbon Mexico 1760–1810 (Albuquerque, 1977); J.R. McNeill, Atlantic empires of France and Spain. Louisbourg and Havanna, 1700–1763 (Chapel Hill, 1986); A.J.Kuethe, Cuba, 1753– 1815. Crown, military, and society (Knoxville, 1986). D.Cahill, Taxonomy of a colonial “riot”: the Arequipa disturbances of 1780, in Reform and insurrection in Bourbon New Granada and Peru, eds J.R.Fisher, A.J.Kuethe and A. 243

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76. 77.

78. 79. 80. 81.

82. 83.

84. 85.

86.

McFarlane (Baton Rouge, 1990), p. 276; B.H.Wall et al., Louisiana. A history (2nd edn, Arlington Heights, 1990), pp. 101–2; Kuethe, The pacification campaign on the Riohacha frontier, 1772–1779, Hispanic American Historical Review, 50, 1970, pp. 467–81. J.L.Phelan, The people and the king: The Comunero Revolution in Columbia, 1781 (Madison, Wisconsin, 1978). J.D.Harbron, Trafalgar and the Spanish navy (London, 1988), pp. 51–75. This work is chronologically more wide-ranging than the title might suggest; C.Fernandez-Shaw, Participation de la Armada Española en la guerre de la independencia de Los Estados Unidos, Revista de Historia Naval, 3, 1985, pp. 75–80; N.O.Rush, The Battle ofPensacola (Tallahassee, Florida, 1966); W.S.Coker and R.Rea (eds), Anglo-Spanish confrontation on the Gulf coast during the American Revolution (Pensacola, 1982). J.M.Dederer, War in America to 1775. Before Yankee Doodle (NewYork, 1990); Black, War for America. The fight for independence (Stroud, 1991). Black, War for America, p. 189. O.Subtelny, Domination of Eastern Europe. Native nobilities and foreign absolutism, 1500– 1715 (Kingston, 1986), p. 136. This wide-ranging and interesting study largely ignores the military dimension. P.Mackesy, Problems of an amphibious power: Britain against France, 1793–1815, Naval War College Review, 1978; Harding, Amphibious warfare, pp. 150–85; W.H.Flayhart, Counterpoint to Trafalgar. The Anglo-Russian invasion of Naples, 1805– 1806 (Columbia, South Carolina, 1992), pp. 102–3. The New York force operated from Halifax, the Manila force from India. C.Gaziello, L’Expédition de Laperouse 1785–1788 (Paris, 1984); M.E.Thurman, The naval department of San Bias: New Spain’s bastion for Alta California and Nootka 1767 to 1798 (Glendale, California, 1967); W.L.Cook, Flood tide of empire: Spain and the Pacific northwest, 1543–1819 (New Haven, Connecticut, 1973), pp. 65–396. Documents for the 1772–3 campaign are in PRO. WO. 1/57. M.Duffy, Soldiers, sugar and seapower. The British expeditions to the West Indies and the war with Revolutionary France (Oxford, 1987), pp. 237–8, 261. Blankett to Lord Hawkesbury, 1 Mar. 1791, BL, Add. 38226, ff. 114, 116. D.Sweet, Native resistance in eighteenth-century Amazonia: The “abominable Muras” in war and peace, Radical History Review, 53, 1992, pp. 49–80. See, more generally, J. Hemming, Red gold: the conquest of the Brazilian Indians, 1500–1760 (Cambridge, Mass., 1978). Marlborough to his wife, 30 June 1758, BL, Add. 61667, f. 22; Hodgson to Lord Barrington, Secretary at War, 29 Apr. 1761, PRO, WO, 1/165, p. 340. Lieutenant-General Conway to Bar r ington, 25 Apr., Conway to Charles Townshend, Barrington’s successor, 5 May 1761, PRO, WO, 1/165, pp. 33, 39; Watson to Earl of Holdernesse, 6 Aug. 1754, BL, Eg. 3488, f. 12; Archer, Combating the invisible enemy: health and hospital care in the army of New Spain, 1760–1810, New World Journal of Latin American Studies, 2, 1987, pp. 49–92. Saxe, Mes rêveries (Amsterdam, 1753; London, 1757), pp. 77–8; Sheffield to Lord Gage, 3 Aug. 1781, PRO, WO, 34/137, f. 193. J.A.Houlding, Fit for service. The training of the British army, 1715–1795 (Oxford, 1981), p. 37; J.Keep, Feeding the troops. Russian army supply policies during the Seven Years’ War, Canadian Slavonic Papers, 29, 1987, p. 37. On logistics, see most recently J.A.Lynn (ed.), Feeding Mars. Logistics in western warfare from the Middle Ages to the present (Boulder, Colorado, 1993). Folliott to Colonel Douglas, 26 Sept. 1762, HL, LO. 8607. 244

NOTES 87. Wellington to Commodore Popham, 21 Oct. 1812, BL, Bathurst Loan 57/108, f. 299. 88. Conway to Townshend, 20 Sept. 1762, PRO, WO, 1/165 p. 182; Bennet diary, 13 July 1785, Bodl. MS, Eng. Misc, f. 54, f. 31. 89. Conway toTownshend, 5 May 1761, PRO, WO, 1/165 p. 39. 90. Hatton to Holdernesse, 18 July, 13 Aug. 1758, BL, Eg. 3443 ff. 34, 42, 48. 91. J.Keegan, A History of warfare (London, 1993), p. 305. 92. Lieutenant-Colonel John Ramsay, British commissary with Korsakov, to Grenville, 14 July 1799, BL, Add. 63819, f. 2.

Chapter 2 1. R.A.Pickering, The plug bayonet, Canadian Journal of Arms Collecting, 10, 1972, pp. 117–28. 2. C.Nordmann, L’armée suédoise au XVIIe siècle, Revue du Nord, 54, 1972, p. 142; G.R. Mork, Flint and steel: a study in military technology and tactics in seventeenth-century Europe, Smithsonian Journal of History, 2, 1967, pp. 25–52. 3. D.Gates, The British light infantry arm c. 1790–1815, its creation, training and operational role (London, 1987), pp. 78–9. On the “Brown Bess”, H.L.Blackmore, British military firearms 1650–1850 (London, 1961), p. 45; D.W.Bailey, British military longarms 1715– 1815 (London, 1971). 4. Account of Austrian 1738 campaign, BL, Add. 61669, f. 17; Saxe, Rêveries (1757), p 71. 5. B.P.Hughes, Firepower. Weapons effectiveness on the battlefield, 1630–1850 (London, 1974), p. 85. 6. L.H.Butterfield (ed.), Adams family correspondence (2 vols, Cambridge, Mass., 1961), pp. 1, 215; Sheffield, City Libraries, Wentworth Woodhouse Muniments R150–8; A state of the expedition from Canada, as laid before the House of Commons. By LieutenantGeneral Burgoyne (London, 1790), p. 120; BL, Add. 32627, ff. 15–16. 7. P.D.Nelson, Anthony Nelson. Soldier of the early republic (Bloomington, Indiana, 1985), p. 72; N.L.York, Pennsylvania rifle: revolutionary weapon in a conventional war?, The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, 103, 1979, pp. 302–24. 8. Rainsford to Major General Amherst, 4 Aug. 1779, PRO, WO, 34/117 ff. 27–8; Anon, undated, Mémoire sur les différens usages auxquels peut être employée une nouvelle machine militaire, PRO, 30/11/258, ff. 7–8. 9. L.Kennett, The French armies in the Seven Years’ War. A study in military organization and administration (Durham, North Carolina, 1967), p. 116. 10. Gates, Light infantry, pp. 79–81. 11. Sturgill, Claude Le Blanc (Gainesville, Florida, 1975), pp. 165–6. 12. W.H.McNeill, The pursuit of power. Technology, armed force, and society since AD 1000 (Oxford, 1982), pp. 166–70; M.H.Jackson and C.de Beer, Eighteenth century gunfounding (Washington, 1974); Tucker, Arming the Fleet. United States navy ordnance in the muzzleloading era (Annapolis, Maryland, 1989), p. 53. 13. R.H.Campbell, Canon company (Edinburgh, 1961), pp. 87–103; Tucker, The carronade, US Naval Institute Proceedings, 99, 1973, p. 66; J.E.Talbott. The rise and fall of the carronade, History Today, 39/8, 1989, pp. 24–30. 14. H.Rosen, Le système Gribeauval et la guerre moderne, Revue historique des armées, 1–2, 1975, pp. 29–36; McNeill, pp. 170–1. 245

NOTES 15. Observations on the carronades, 3 Oct. 1779, Hugh Elliot to Amherst, 19 Sept. 1779, PRO, WO, 34/116, f. 66; 34/118, f. 114. 16. Samuel Tovey to Amherst, 30 July, Desaguliers to Amherst, 31 July 1779, PRO, WO, 34/ 116, ff. 210, 213. 17. Congreve to Lord Grenville, British Foreign Secretary, 25 Mar. 1807; Congreve, memorandum, 1806, Popham to Viscount Melville, First Lord of the Admiralty, 27 Nov. 1812, BL, Add. 59282, f. 170; 59281, ff. 88–97, Bathurst Loan 57/108, f. 327; G.C.Bond, The grand expedition. The British invasion of Holland in 1809 (Athens, Georgia, 1979), pp. 102–107; I.Fletcher (ed.), A guards officer in the peninsula (Tunbridge Wells, 1992), p. 96; O.von Pivka, Armies of the Napoleonic era (New York, 1979), p. 32; F.Winter, The first golden age of rockets: Congreve and Hale rockets of the nineteenth century (Washington, DC, 1991). 18. F.W.Labaree et al. (eds), The papers of Benjamin Franklin (New Haven, Connecticut, 1959), pp. 22, 155–7, 185, 522–3; A.Roland, Underwater warfare in the age of sail (Bloomington, Indiana, 1978), pp. 67–119,128; Fulton to Grenville, 18, 30 Sept. 1806, BL, Add. 59282, ff. 24–5, 39; T.Peck, Round-shot to rockets. A history of the Washington navy yard and United States naval gun factory (Annapolis, Maryland, 1949), pp. 34–8; W.S.Hutcheon, Robert Fulton, pioneer of undersea warfare (Annapolis, Maryland, 1981), pp. 45–89, 123–4; C.O. Philip, Robert Fulton (New York, 1985), pp. 299–300. 19. G.L.Pesce, La Navigation sous-marine (Paris, 1906), p. 227. 20. Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem, The Netherlands. 21. P.P.Bernard, How not to invent the steamship, East European Quarterly, 14, 1980, pp. 1–8. 22. Anon, undated memorandum, PRO, 30/11/258, ff. 5–8; James Hunter to Amherst, 12 July 1779,W.Gray to Amherst, 20 July 1781, PRO,WO, 34/116, f. 89, 34/135, ff. 174–6. 23. L.Diamant, Chaining the Hudson. The fight for the river in the American Revolution (New York, 1989). 24. F.W.Labaree et al. (eds) Franklin, pp. 22, 359, 24, 293; Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, 2, 81 (Charlottesville, 1987). 25. Gillespie, BL, Add. 5928, ff. 41–2. 26. Earl of Ilchester ed., Letters to Henry Fox (Roxburghe Club, 1915), p. 9. 27. Observations à faire sur le service des Archers Piquiers proposez par le Sieur de La Mire, Providence, John Hay Library, Anne S.K.Brown Military Collection F. (c. 1660) France. 28. K.H.Doig.War in the reform programme of the Encyclopedic,War and Society, 6, 1988, p. 3; Franklin, pp. 22, 181–2; J.P.Bertaud, The army of the French Revolution. From citizensoldiers to instrument of power (Princeton, New Jersey, 1988), pp. 154–5; K.Ferguson, The army and the Irish rebellion of 1798, in The road to Waterloo. The British army and the struggle against Revolutionary France, 1793–1815, ed. A.J.Guy (London, 1990), p. 94. 29. R.J.B.Knight, The introduction of copper sheathing into the Royal Navy, 1779– 1786, Mariner’s Mirror, 59, 1973, pp. 299–309; Talbott, Copper, salt and the worm, Naval History, 3, 1989; Glete, Navies and Nations, p. 42. 30. J.B.Hattendorf et al. (eds), British naval documents 1204–1960 (Aldershot, 1993), p. 477. 31. E.Hagerman, The American Civil War and the origins of modern warfare. Ideas, organization, and field command (Bloomington, Indiana, 1988), pp. xi, xvii. 32. M.van Creveld, Technology and war. From 2000 BC (New York, 1989), p. 112. 33. Houlding, Fit for service, pp. 146, 255–6; A.R.Hall, Ballistics in the seventeenth century (Cambridge, 1952). 34. Jackson and Beer, Gunfounding, pp. 17, 19–20, 36. 35. The value of the balloons is argued most recently in J-P.Bertaud and D.Reichel, Atlas de la revolution franchise. L’armée et la guerre (Paris, 1989), pp. 69–70. 246

NOTES 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49.

50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63.

D.Chandler, The art of warfare on land (London, 1974), p. 152. Rothenberg, Art of warfare, pp. 123–4. J.R.Elting, Amateurs to arms. A military history of the war of 1812 (Chapel Hill 1991) p. 9. Hughes, Firepower, p. 147. Elting, Swords around a throne: Napoleon’s Grande Armée (New York, 1988), pp. 103–6; Creveld, Technology, pp. 154–6; Macdonald to Grenville, 20 Feb. 1807, BL, Add. 59282. J.Pritchard, From shipwright to naval constructor, Technology and Culture, 1987, pp. 7, 9, 19–20. J.G.Coad, The Royal dockyards 1690–1850 (London, 1989); M.Crook, Toulon, in war and revolution. From the “ancien régime” to the Restoration, 1750–1820 (Manchester, 1991), p. 15. Kennett, French armies, p. 115; Rothenberg, Art of warfare, p. 122. Gates, Light infantry, p. 81. J.West, Gunpowder, government and war in the mid-eighteenth century (Woodbridge, 1991), pp. 193, 195. Houlding, Fit for service, pp. 138–9. W.M.Pinter, Russia as a great power, 1709–1856: reflections on the problem of relative back-wardness, with special reference to the Russian army and Russian society (Washington, 1978), p. 14. Kennett, Seven Years’ War, p. 115. T.Keppel, The life of Augustus, Viscount Keppel (2 vols, 1842), I, 320; Horsbrugh diary, 21 Jan. 1782, BL, Add. 50258, f. 6; R.E.Scouller, The armies of Queen Anne (Oxford, 1966), pp. 201, 197; Charles Frederick MP, Surveyor General of the Ordnance, to Holdernesse, 7 Feb. 1758, BL, Eg. 3443, f. 3; J.R.Dull, The French navy and American independence (Princeton, New Jersey, 1975), pp. 22–3; PRO, WO, 34/126, ff. 86–7. Rothenberg, Art of warfare, pp. 122–3. Popham to Wellington, 20 Oct. 1812, BL, Bathurst Loan 57/108, f. 297. Elting, Swords around a throne, p. 263; D.W.Bailey and D.Harding, From India to Waterloo: the “Indian pattern” musket, in The road to Waterloo, ed. Guy, p. 56. Account of Austrian 1738 campaign, BL, Add. 61669, ff. 13, 32. Kirkpatrick to Cornwallis, 6 June 1787, PRO, 30/11/121.f.44; Lenman,Weapons of war, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, 36, 1968, pp. 33–43; J.Pemble, Resources and techniques in the second Maratha War, Historical Journal, 19, 1976, pp. 375–404. G.Lacour-Gayet, La marine militaire de la France sous le règne de Louis XV (Paris, 1910), pp. 115, 436; G.Clark, The Barbary corsairs in the seventeenth century, in his War and society in the seventeenth century (Cambridge, 1958), pp. 105–29. Cornwallis to Shore, 14 Sept. 1787, PRO, 30/11/165, f. 29. Peck, Round-shot to rockets, pp. 9, 21 John Call to [Colonel Draper?], 15 July 1760, Return of Stores, 27 Jan. 1761, IO, H/Misc/96, pp. 29, 201–202. P.Jenkins, A history of modern Wales, 1536–1990 (Harlow, 1992), pp. 215–18. Tucker, Arming the fleet, pp. 14–16. Jackson and Beer, Gunfounding, pp. 17, 35–7. Butterfield (ed.), Adams family correspondence, II, pp. 25, 61; F.Wharton (ed.), The revolutionary diplomatic correspondence of the United States (Washington, DC, 1889), II, p. 66; D. Higginbotham, The War of American Independence (New York, 1971), p. 308. J.Bradley, Guns for the Tsar. American technology and the small arms industry in nineteenth-century Russia (Dekalb, Illinois, 1990). Tucker, Arming the fleet, pp. 32–3. PRO, WO, 34/125, f. 10. 247

NOTES 64. Tactical systems are considered in B.Nosworthy, The Anatomy of victory. Battle tactics 1689–1763 (New York, 1990), but this work is stronger on theory than practice and concentrates overwhelmingly on France and Prussia. 65. Conway toTownshend, 15 July 1761, 15 Aug., 20 Sept. 1762, PRO, WO, 1/165, pp. 95–6, 141–2, 183. 66. Sackville to Holdernesse, 2 Aug. 1759, BL, Eg. 3443, f. 235. 67. Sackville to Holdernesse, 2 Aug. 1759, BL, Eg. 3443, f. 234; Granby to Townshend, 24 Sept. 1762, PRO, WO, 1/165, pp. 190–1. 68. Francis to Jeremy Browne, 26 Oct. 1762, BL, RP. 3284. 69. Hughes, Open fire: artillery tactics from Marlborough to Wellington (Chichester, 1983). 70. Hughes, Firepower, D.Showalter, Tactics and recruitment in eighteenth century Prussia, Studies in History and Politics, 3, 1983–4, pp. 15–41. 71. H.W.Koch, The rise of modern warfare from the age of revolutions through Napoleon (London, 1981), p. 81. 72. Koch, Rise of modern warfare, pp. 142–3. 73. Quelques Remarques sur la façon de manoeuvre et de combattre du Roi de Prusse, and Quelques reflexions sur la bataille de Leuthen, memoranda of c. 1758, papers of Horace St. Paul, Gosforth, Northumberland, CRO, ZBU, B2/3/1

Chapter 3 1. Chandler, The art of warfare in the age of Marlborough (London, 1976), pp. 19–20; R.F. Weigley, The age of battles. The quest for decisive warfare from Breitenfeld to Waterloo (Bloomington, Indiana, 1991), p. 539; B.R.Kroener, La planification des operations militaires et le commandement superieur. La crise de l’alliance Franco-Bavaroise à la veille de la bataille de Höchstädt, in Forces armées et systèmes d’alliance. Colloque international d’histoire militaire et d’études de defense nationale (Montpellier, 1981), p. 171. 2. Weigley, Quest, p. 538. 3. B.K.Király, War and society in western and east central Europe in the pre-Revolutionary eighteenth century, in East central European society and war in the pre-Revolutionary eighteenth century, eds G.E.Rothenberg, B.K.Király and P.F.Sugar (Boulder, Colorado, 1982), p. 1; C.Ingrao, review of J.L.Sutton, The king’s honor and the king’s cardinal. The war of the Polish succession (Lexington, 1980), in The eighteenth century. A current bibliography, new series 6, 1980, p. 143. See also J.Luvaas (ed.), Frederick the Great on the art of war (New York, 1966), pp. 16–17; E.Robson, The armed forces and the art of war, in The new Cambridge modern history VII, ed. J.Lindsay (Cambridge, 1970), pp. 163–8, 174–5;Y.Gras, Les guerres limitées du XVIIIe siècle, Revue historique de l’armée, 26, 1970, pp. 22–36; R.Kann, Reflections on the causes of eighteenth-century warfare in Europe, in East central European society, eds Rothenberg et al. p. 33; J.Childs, Armies, and warfare in Europe 1648–1789 (Manchester, 1982), pp. 21, 101; M.S.Anderson, War and society in Europe of the old regime 1618–1789 (London, 1988), pp. 196–7; K.J.Holsti, Peace and war: armed conflicts and international order 1648–1989 (Cambridge, 1989), p. 102; S.Adams, Tactics or politics? “The military revolution” and the Habsburg hegemony, 1525–1648, in Tools of war, ed. Lynn, p. 47; F.Tallett, War and society in early-modern Europe, 1495–1715 (London, 1992), p. 68; Keegan, History of warfare, p. 345; Lynn (ed.), Feeding Mars, pp. 23–4. 4. A succinct introduction by one of the participants is in H.Delbrück, History of the 248

NOTES

5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

art of war IV. The dawn of modern warfare, translated by W.J.Renfroe (Lincoln, Nebraska, 1990), pp. 378–82. Koch, Rise of modern warfare, pp. 148–50. Chandler, Fluctuations in the strength of forces in English pay sent to Flanders during the Nine Years’ War, 1688–1697, War and Society, 1, 1983, p. 11. Wade to Lord Carteret, Secretary of State for Northern Department, 10, 20 June 1744, Bodl. Ms. Eng. Hist. c. 314. ff. 15–16; Lord Pelham, undated memorandum on how best to respond to Napoleonic invasion, BL, Add. 33120, f. 169. J.A.Lynn, How war fed war: the tax of violence and contributions during the Grand Siècle, Journal of Modern History, 65, 1993, pp. 301–3; Presidency to Colonel Adlercron, 20 Dec. 1754, Holdernesse to Adlercron, 4 Apr. 1755, BL, Eg. 3488, ff. 28, 65; Macartney to Warren Hastings, Governor-General of India, 10 Aug., 11 Sept. 1781, Coote to Macartney, 23 Nov. 1781, Macartney to John Macpherson, member of the Bengal council, 3 Jan. 1782, BL, Add. 22454, ff. 15, 26, 22439, f. 69, 22456, f. 15. For example, J.M.Bridgman, Gunpowder and governmental power: war in early modern Europe, 1494–1825, in War. A historical, political, and social study, ed. L.L.Farrar (Santa Barbara, California, 1978), pp. 110–11. G.Sherburn (ed.), Correspondence of Alexander Pope, III (Oxford, 1956), pp. 484–5. Philip to Joseph Yorke, 24 July 1747, BL, Add. 35363, f. 179. Horsbrugh diary, BL, Add. 50258, f. 8. Argyll to Whetham, 26 Nov., 24 Dec. 1711, Cambridge, University Library, Additional Manuscripts 6570, ff. 59, 67. Newcastle to Cumberland, 5 Apr. 1748, Windsor Castle, Royal Archives, Cumberland Papers 33/273. Frederick II to Count Finckenstein, 8 July 1781, Politische Correspondenz, 46, 16. R.D.Bourland, Maurepas and his administration of the French navy on the eve of the war of the Austrian succession (Ph.D thesis, Notre Dame, 1978), pp. 138–40; W.Maltby, Politics, professionalism, and the evolution of sailing-ship tactics, 1650– 1714, in Tools of war, ed. Lynn, p. 69. Lavery, Ship of the line, I, 8–9. J.S.Bromley, Ships, in The new Cambridge modern history, VI, ed. Bromley (Cambridge, 1971), p. 794; Keppel, Viscount Keppel, II, p. 51; Mackesy, Problems of an Amphibious Power, Naval War College Review, 1978; Harding, Amphibious warfare, pp. 150–85; P. Mackesy, “Most sadly bitched”: the British Cadiz expedition of 1800, in Les empires en guerre et paix 1793–1860 ed. E.Freeman (Vincennes, 1990), pp. 41–54. W.Horsley, A treatise on naval affairs: or, a comparison between the commerce and naval power of England and France (1744), p. 76. B.Liddell Hart, The ghost of Napoleon (New Haven, Connecticut, 1933), p. 24. Guibert, Défense du système de guerre moderne, ou refutation complete du système de M. de Mesnil-Durand (Paris, 1779), pt 4, ch. 2, in J.P.Charnay, Guibert: Strategique (Paris, 1977), pp. 558–9. C.Duffy, The fortress in the age ofVauban and Frederick the Great, 1660–1789 (London, 1985). P.Englund, The Battle of Poltava. The birth of the Russian empire (London, 1992). Chandler, Marlborough as military commander (London, 1973); A.D.Francis, The first Peninsular War, 1702–1713 (London, 1975). C.Martinez de Campos, España belica del Siglo XVIII (Madrid, 1965), pp. 127–8. Philip to Joseph Yorke, 25 Aug. 1745, BL, Add. 35363, f. 94; Hunter to Henry Pelham, 22 Aug. 1747, New Haven, Beinecke Library, Osborn Shelves, Pelham Box. 249

NOTES 27. Parker, Military revolution, p. 43. 28. Koch, Rise of modern warfare, p. 148. 29. Journal of siege of Dresden, papers of Horace St. Paul, Northumberland CRO, ZBU, B2/ 3/52, 51. Some of St. Paul’s earlier military papers were edited by G.G.Butler as A journal of the first two campaigns of the Seven Years’ War (Cambridge, 1914). 30. ZBU, B2/3/29. 31. Quelques remarques sur la façon de manoeuvre et de combattre du Roi de Prusse, ZBU, B2/3/11. 32. Campaign journal, 8 June 1758, ZBU, B2/3/25; Duffy, Fortress in the age ofVauban, pp. 123–5. 33. Campaign journal, 6 Sept. 1758, ZBU, B2/3/25. 34. Campaign journal, 12 May 1758, ZBU, B2/3/25; Marquess ofGranby toTownshend, 1 July 1761, PRO, WO, 1/165 p. 93; Luvaas (ed.), Frederick the Great, p. 9. 35. Articles in the Acta Historica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 22, 1976, particularly G. Razso, La situation militaire générale et la guerre d’independance de Rakoczi. 36. Black, Culloden and the ‘45 (Stroud, 1990). 37. T.Pakenham, The year of liberty (3rd edn, 1972); M.Elliott, Partners in revolution. The United Irishmen and France (New Haven, Connecticut, 1982), pp. 165–207. 38. Hill, The distinctiveness of Gaelic warfare, 1400–1750, European History Quarterly, 22, 1992, p. 323. 39. Lenman, Transition, in Tools of war, ed. Lynn, pp. 119–20; D.B.Ralston, Importing the European army. The introduction of European military techniques and institutions into the extraEuropean world, 1600–1914 (Chicago, 1990), pp. 49–51; Sir Robert Ainslie, British Ambassador in Constantinople, to Marquis of Carmarthen, British Foreign Secretary, 25 Apr., 10 May 1786, 9 Aug., 25 Sept. 1787, PRO, FO, 78/7, ff. 110–11, 151–2, 199. 40. A.H.Joudah, Revolt in Palestine in the eighteenth century. The era of Shaykh Zahir alUmar (Princeton, New Jersey, 1987), p. 77. 41. See, most recently, Pritchard, Louis XV’s navy 1748–1762. A study of organization and administration (Kingston, 1987). 42. G.Perjes, Army provisioning, logistics and strategy in the second half of the seventeenth century, Acta Historica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae, 16, 1970, pp. 1– 52; Luvaas, Frederick s campaign in Silesia 1744–45, in Essays in some dimensions of military history, IV, ed. B.F.Cooling (Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania, 1976), pp. 14, 19; Keep, Feeding the troops: Russian army supply policies during the Seven Years’ War, Canadian Slavonic Papers, 29, 1987, pp. 24–44. The most important recent contribution is Lynn, Food, funds, and fortresses: resource mobilization and positional warfare in the campaigns of Louis XIV, in Feeding Mars, ed. Lynn, pp. 137–59, and his introductory section on pp. 103–7. 43. N.Tracy, Sir Robert Calder’s action, Mariner’s Mirror, 77, 1991, p. 269. 44. G.J.Marcus, Hawke s blockade of Brest, Joumal of the Royal United Services Institution, 1959, pp. 475–88; A.N.Ryan. The Royal Navy and the blockade of Brest, in Les marines de guerre Européennes XVII-XVIIe siècles, eds M.Acerra, J.Merino, J.Meyer (Paris, 1985), pp. 175–93; R.Saxby, The blockade of Brest in the French Revolutionary Wars, Mariner’s Mirror, 78, 1992, pp. 25–35; M.Duffy, The establishment of the western squadron as the linchpin of British naval strategy, in Parameters of British naval power 1650–1850, ed. Duffy (Exeter, 1992), pp. 60–81; Hattendorf, Admiral Sir George Byng and the Cape Passaro Incident, 1718: a case study in the use of the Royal Navy as a deterrent, in Guerres et paix 1660–1815 (Vincennes, 1987), pp. 19–38. 45. Duffy, The military life of Frederick the Great (London, 1985), pp. 268–77. 250

NOTES 46. Menning, Russian military innovation in the second half of the eighteenth century, War and Society, 21, 1984, pp. 23–41, quote p. 37. 47. Perjes, Army provisioning; H.S.Wilkinson, The French army before Napoleon (Oxford, 1915) and The rise of General Bonaparte (Oxford, 1930), pp. 1–6; R.A.Quimby, The background of Napoleonic warfare: the theory of military tactics in eighteenth-century France (New York, 1957); S.T.Ross, The development of the combat division in eighteenth century French armies, French Historical Studies, 1, 1965, pp. 84–94; Rosen, Le système Gribeauval et la guerre moderne, Revue Historique des Armées, 1–2, 1975, pp. 29–36; P.Paret, Colonial experience and European military reform at the end of the eighteenth century, Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research, 1964, pp. 47–59; P.Russell, Redcoats in the wilderness: British officers and irregular warfare in Europe, 1740 to 1766, William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd series, 35, 1978, pp. 629–52; Gates, Light infantry arm c1790–1815, pp. 10–21. 48. Arbuthnot to Sir Robert Murray Keith, Envoy Extraordinary in Vienna, 28 Dec. 1789, BL, Add. 35541, f. 367. 49. Black, War for America. 50. Rothenberg, Soldiers and the Revolution: the French army, society, and the state, 1788–99, Historical Journal, 32, 1989, p. 995. 51. Rothenberg, Napoleon’s great adversaries, in Russia’s military way to the west…1700– 1800, ed. Duffy (London, 1981), pp. 215–31. 52. T.P.Pfau, Geschichte des Preussischen Feldzuges in der Provinz Holland im Jahr 1787 (Berlin, 1790); P.de Witt, Une invasion prussienne en Hollande en 1787 (Paris, 1886); R. Senckler, Der Preussiche Feldzug in den Niederlanden im Jahre 1787 (Berlin, 1893). 53. R.Callahan, The East India Company and army reform, 1783–1798 (Cambridge, Mass., 1972); F. and M.Wickwire, Cornwallis. The imperial years (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1980), pp. 98–173. 54. Cornwallis to Henry Dundas, President of the Board of Control, 4 Apr. 1790, PRO, 30/ 11/151, f. 40. 55. Cornwallis to the Court of Directors of the East India Company 20 Apr. 1791, PRO, 30/ 11/155, f. 19. 56. Cornwallis to Court of Directors, 26 Dec. 1791, PRO, 30/11/155, ff. 134–8. 57. Paret, Understanding war. Essays on Clausewitz and the history of military power (Princeton, New Jersey, 1992), p. 36. 58. Henry Pelham, 1st Lord of the Treasury, to Robert Trevor, envoy in The Hague, 19 Apr. 1744, Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire CRO, Trevor papers vol. 39; D’Argenson, French foreign minister, to Puysieulx, envoy at The Hague, 2 Oct. 1746, AE, CP, Hollande 462, ff. 4–5. 59. Coote to Macartney, 31 Oct. 1781, BL, Add. 22439, ff. 62–3. 60. Luvaas, Fredericks Campaign, p. 19.

Chapter 4 1. F. Redlich, The German military enterpriser and his workforce (2 vols, Wiesbaden, 1964); P. H.Kamphuis et al., Je maintiendrai. A concise history of the Dutch army 1568–1940 (The Hague, 1985), p. 33; L.A.Ribot Garcia, El reclutamiento militar en España a mediados del siglo XVII. La “composicion” de las milicias de Castilla, Cuadernos de 251

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2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14. 15. 16. 17.

18. 19.

Investigacion Historica, 9, 1986, pp. 63–90; Black, A military revolution? Military change and European society 1550–1800 (London, 1991), pp. 67–75. Pelham to Addington, 23 Sept. 1801, undated memorandum, BL, Add. 33120, ff. 59, 162. Kennett, French armies, pp. 26, 35–8. Roberts, The Swedish imperial experience 1560–1718 (Cambridge, 1979), p. 45; C. Nordmann, Armée suédoise, p. 144. Chandler, Fluctuations in the strength of forces in English pay sent to Flanders during the Nine Years’War, 1688–1697, War and Society, 1, 1983, p. 4; Nordmann, armée suédoise, p. 137. Lynn. The growth of the French army during the seventeenth century, Armed Forces and Society, 6, 1980, p. 576. Walpole to Cumberland, 8 Dec. 1747, Windsor Castle, Cumberland Papers, 30/146. Baron Wachtendonck to Baron Haslang. Wittelsbach envoy in London, 9 Feb. 1758, Munich, Bayerisches Hauptstaatsarchiv, Abteilung II, Gesandtschaften, London 234. Lynn, The trace italienne and the growth of armies: the French case, Journal of Military History, 55, 1991, pp. 297–330; M.S.Kingra. The trace italienne and the military revolution during the Eighty Years’ War, 1567–1648, ibid., 57, 1993, pp. 431–46. Kea, Settlements, pp. 164–5; Thornton, Africa and Africans in the making of the Atlantic world, 1400–1680 (Cambridge, 1982), p. 123. D.A.Parrott, The administration of the French army during the ministry of Cardinal Richelieu, D.Phil, thesis (Oxford, 1985); P.J.Berger, Military and financial government in France 1648–1661, Ph.D. thesis (Chicago, 1979). Lynn, Recalculating French army growth during the Grand Siècle, 1610–1715, French Historical Studies (forthcoming). C.Rousset, Historic de Louvois et de son administration politique et militaire (Paris, 1861–3); L.André, Michel Le Tellier et l’organisation de l’armée monarchique (Paris, 1906) and Michel Le Tellier et Louvois (Paris, 1942); A.Corvisier, Les généraux de Louis XIV, XVIIe siècle, 1959, pp. 23–53, and Louvois (Paris, 1983); J.Bérenger, Turenne (Paris, 1987). A recent introduction that emphasizes change during the reign of Louis XIV is provided by R.Martin, The army of Louis XIV, in Louis XIV, ed. Sonnino, pp. 111–26. On discipline, Lynn, How war fed war: the tax of violence and contributions during the Grand Siècle, Journal of Modern History, 65, 1993, pp. 293–6; and on logistics his Food, funds, and fortresses in Feeding Mars, ed. Lynn; and B.Kroener, Les routes et les etapes. Die Versorgung der französischen Armeen in Nordostfrankreich (1635–1661). Ein Beitrag zur Verwaltungsgeschichte des Ancien Régime (Münster, 1980). Symcox, The crisis of French sea power 1688–1697 (The Hague, 1974), pp. 33–55. C.J.Ekberg, The failure of Louis XIV’s Dutch war (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1979). D.Potter, War and government in the French provinces. Picardy 1470–1560 (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 155–99. A.Rébelliau, Vauban (Paris, 1962); M.Parent and J.Verroust, Vauban (Paris, 1971); A. Blanchard, Les ingénieurs du Roy de Louis XIV a Louis XVI. Etude du corps des fortifications (Montpellier, 1979); C.Duffy, The fortress in the age of Vauban and Frederick the Great (London, 1985); B.Pujo, Vauban (Paris, 1991); M.D.Pollak, Military architecture, cartography and the representation of the early modern European City (Chicago, 1991). Saxe, Rêveries (1757), p. 84. Louis XIV to Rebenac, envoy in Spain, 11 Jan. 1689, AE, CP, Esp. 75, f. 290; D.A. Gaeddert, The Franco-Bavarian alliance during the war of the Spanish succession, Ph.D. thesis (Ohio State University, 1969), pp. 32–3; Gaultier, French agent in London, to Torcy, French foreign minister, 7 June 1712, AE, CP, Ang. sup. 4, ff. 150–51. 252

NOTES 20. Providence, Hay Library, FT (1714?) France, pp. 1–2. 21. 1691. Le Siège de Mons par Louis XIV (Brussels, 1991); P.Burke, The fabrication of Louis XIV (New Haven, Connecticut, 1992), pp. 71–83, 94–102, 110–12. 22. Louis to Verjus, French envoy at the imperial Diet, 17, 24 Dec. 1688, AE, CP, Allemagne 323, ff. 176, 193. 23. G.Girard, Racolage et milice, 1701–1715 (Paris, 1921). 24. Perrone, envoy in Paris, to Victor Amadeus II of Savoy-Piedmont, 11 Feb., 2 Mar. 1716, in Relazioni diplornatiche della monarchia di Savoia dalla prima alla seconda restaurazione 1559–1814: Francia…1713–1719, eds A.Manno, E.Vayra andE.Ferrero (3 vols/Turin, 1886–91) II, pp. 108–9, 120. 25. See pp. 210–11; C.Hinrichs, Friedrich Wilhelm I (Hamburg, 1941); and R.L.Gawthrop, Pietism and the making of eighteenth-century Prussia (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 223–37. 26. Tilson to Delafaye, 9 Oct. 1723, PRO, SP., 43/5, f. 126. 27. L. and M.Frey, Frederick I (Boulder, Colorado, 1984), p. 181; R.Ergang, The Potsdam Führer (New York, 1941), p. 63. 28. W.O.Henderson, Studies in the economic policy of Frederick the Great (London, 1963), pp. 1–7. 29. Anon. memorandum, 1740, PRO, 30/29/371; N.Brancaccio, L’e5era’to del veahio Piemonte. Gli ordinamenti. Parte I: Dal 1560 al 1814 (Rome, 1923), p. 184; Symcox, Victor Amadeus II (London, 1983), p. 145; S.Loriga, Soldats: un laboratoire disciplinaire: L’armée piédmontese au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1991). 30. Frederick William I to Chambrier, Prussian envoy in Paris, 15 May 1723, AE, CP, Prusse 73, f. 51. 31. P.Wilson, The power to defend, or the defence of power: the conflict between duke and estates over defence provision, Württemberg 1677–1793, Parliaments, Estates and Representation, 12, 1992, pp. 26, 29. 32. A.V.Berkis, The reign of Duke James in Courland 1638–1682 (Lincoln, Nebraska, 1960), p. 58. 33. Barker, Army, aristocracy, monarchy: essays on war, society and government in Austria, 1618–1780 (Boulder, Colorado, 1982); R.J.W.Evans, The making of the Habsburg monarchy 1550–1700 (Oxford, 1979). 34. Barker, The military intellectual and battle: Raimondo Montecuccoli and the Thirty Years’War (Albany, New York, 1975). 35. D.McKay, Prince Eugene of Savoy (London, 1977), p. 231. 36. J.S.Wheeler, Logistics and supply in Cromwell’s conquest of Ireland, in War and government in Britain 1598–1650, ed. M.C.Fissel (Manchester, 1991), pp. 38–56, and The logistics of the Cromwellian conquest of Scotland of 1650–51, War and Society, 10, 1992. 37. Childs, The army of Charles II (London, 1976) and The army, James II and the glorious revolution (Manchester, 1980); L.G.Schwoerer, “No standing armies!” The antistanding army ideology in seventeenth-century England (Baltimore, Maryland, 1974). 38. P.Aubrey, The defeat of James Stuart’s armada, 1692 (Leicester, 1979); P.Hopkins, Glencoe and the end of the Highland War (Edinburgh, 1986); A.M.Scott, Bonnie Dundee (Edinburgh, 1989); Hill, Killiecrankie and the evolution of Highland warfare, War in History, 1994. 39. J.G.Simms, Jacobite Ireland 1685–91 (London, 1969); P.Beresford-Ellis, The Boyne water (London, 1976); R.Shepherd, Ireland’s fate: the Boyne and after (London, 1990); W.A. Maguire (ed.), Kings in conflict (Belfast, 1990); P.Wauchope, Patrick Sarsfield and the Williamite War (Blackrock, 1992). 40. Childs, The British army of William III (Manchester, 1987), pp. 268, 153, 210, and The Nine Years’ War and the British army. The operations in the Low Countries (Manchester, 1991). 253

NOTES 41. D.W.Jones, War and economy in the age of William III and Marlborough (Oxford, 1988), p. 11. 42. Symcox, Britain and Victor Amadeus II: or, the use and abuse of allies, in England’s rise to greatness, 1660–1763, ed. S.Baxter (Berkeley, California, 1983), p. 164. 43. Ehrman, Navy in the war of William III. 44. M.Duffy, Western squadron, in Parameters, ed. Duffy, p. 68. 45. S.F.Gradish, The establishment of British seapower in the Mediterranean, 1689– 1713, Canadian Journal of History, 10, 1975, pp. 1–16; S.R.Hor nstein, The Restoration navy and English foreign trade, 1674–1688 (Aldershot, 1991), pp. 99–150. 46. A.D.Francis, The first Peninsular War, 1702–1713 (London, 1975); Hattendorf, Alliance, encirclement, and attrition: British grand strategy in the war of the Spanish succession, 1702–1713, in Grand strategies in war and peace, ed. P.L.Kennedy (New Haven, Connecticut, 1990), pp. 11–29. 47. Chandler, Marlborough as military commander (London, 1973). 48. New Haven, Beinecke Library, Osborn Shelves, pc 224, 22 Sept. 1708. 49. J.R.Jones, Marlborough (Cambridge, 1993), p. 183. 50. Symcox, Crisis of French sea power. 51. Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar. Army and society in Russia 1462–1874 (Oxford, 1985), pp. 50–1, 56, 67, 97; R.Hellie, Warfare, changing military technology, and the evolution of Muscovite society, in Tools of war, ed. Lynn, pp. 94–6; E.V.Anisimov, The reforms of Peter the Great (London, 1993), pp. 43–139. 52. C.Duffy, Russia’s military way to the west. Origins and nature of Russian military power 1700–1800 (London, 1981), pp. 1–41. 53. On the Pruth campaign, see B.H.Sumner, Peter the Great and the Ottoman empire (Oxford, 1949), pp. 39–42, and more recently, L.R.Lewitter, Jean-Nicole Moreau de Brasey’s letter on the Moldavian campaign of Peter I, Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas, 40, 1992, pp. 517–29. 54. Englund, Poltava. 55. Tilson to Delafaye, 6, 20 Aug. 1723, PRO, SP, 43/4, ff. 208, 252. 56. Ralston, Importing the European army, pp. x, 13–42. 57. T.Esper, Military self-sufficiency and weapons technology in Muscovite Russia, Slavic Review, 28, 1969, pp. 206–7. 58. D.G.Fedosov, The first Russian Bruces, in The Scottish soldier abroad 1247–1967, ed. G. C.Simpson (Edinburgh, 1992), pp. 57–62. 59. S.J.Shaw, History of the Ottoman empire and modern Turkey, I (Cambridge, 1976), pp. 226, 229, 232.

Chapter 5 1. Martinez de Campos, España belica, pp. 122–5, 128. 2. G.J.Walker, Spanish politics and imperial trade 1700–1789 (London, 1979), pp. 155–6. 3. J.Black, The British navy and British foreign policy in the first half of the eighteenth century, in Essays in European History, eds J.Black and K.Schweizer (London, 1985), p. 43. 4. Pinter, Russia as a great power, pp. 13–14. A lower estimate is suggested by C.Duffy, Russia’s military way, pp. 125–6. 5. C.Duffy, The military life of Frederick the Great (London, 1986), pp. 30–3. 254

NOTES 6. M.Orr, Dettingen 1743 (London, 1972). 7. Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire RO, D/X 1069/2/116; F.H.Skrine, Fontenoy and Great Britain’s share in the war of the Austrian succession (London, 1906); C.Grant, The Battle of Fontenoy (London, 1975). 8. Hill, Celtic Warfare- Black, Culloden and the ’45. 9. There is a contemporary account of the hard fighting for the village in BL, Add. 71172, f. 13; R.Butler, Choiseul I (Oxford, 1980), pp. 689–95. 10. Taunton CRO, Trollop-Bellew papers, DD/TB 16 FT 18. 11. Saxe, Mes réveries (Amsterdam, 1753; London, 1757). 12. J.M.White, Marshal of France: the life and times of Maurice de Saxe (Chicago, 1962). 13. Nosworthy, Anatomy of victory, pp. 161, 202–21, 226–7, 243–9; P.G.M.Dickson, Finance and government under Maria Theresia 1740–1780 (2 vols, Oxford, 1987), I, pp. 222–32; II, pp. 8–35. 14. S.J.Svoboda, Die theresianische Militärakademie zu Wiener-Neustadt (Vienna, 1894); J.C. Allmayer-Beck, The establishment of the Theresan military academy in Wiener Neustadt, in Király, Rothenberg and Sugar (eds.), Essays on pre-Revolutionary eighteenth century east central European society and war (New York, 1982). 15. Barker, Army, aristocracy, monarchy, pp. 143–4; exhibition catalogue Charles-Alexandre de Lorraine (Bilzen-Rijkhoven, 1987), pp. 164–5. 16. Merino Navarro, Armada Española, pp. 51–3; Habron, Trafalgar, pp. 35–9. 17. Keep, Die russische Armee im Siebenjährigen Krieg, in Europa im Zeitalter Friedrichs des Grossen, ed. B.Kroener (Munich, 1989), pp. 133–69. 18. Viscount Townshend to Brigadier Charles Du Bourgay, envoy in Berlin, 25 Aug. 1729, PRO, SP, 90/24; Kennett, French armies, pp. 40–41. 19. Duffy, The army of Frederick the Great (Newton Abbot, 1974), p. 155. 20. Mackesy, The coward ofMinden (London, 1979). 21. Nordmann, Choiseul and the last Jacobite attempt of 1759, in Ideology and conspiracy: aspects of Jacobitism, 1689–1759, ed. E.Cruickshanks (Edinburgh, 1982), pp. 201–217; R. F.Mackay, Admiral Hawke (Oxford, 1965). 22. Memorandum by Generals Ligonier, Marlborough and Sackville, 1758, BL, Eg. 3444, f. 194. 23. Keppel, Viscount Keppel, I, pp. 209–21; R.L.Yaple, Braddock’s defeat: the theories and a reconsideration, Journal of the Society of Army Historical Research, 46, 1968, pp. 194– 201; P.E.Kopperman, Braddock at the Monogehela (Pittsburgh, 1977). 24. General Amherst to Lord Barrington, Secretary at War, 8 Mar. 1760, PRO, WO, 1 / 5, f. 100; K.L.Parker, Anglo-American wilderness campaigning, 1754–1764: logistical and tactical developments, Ph.D. thesis (Columbia University, 1970); D.J.Beattie, The adaptation of the British army to wilderness warfare, 1755–1763 in Adapting to conditions, ed. Ultee, pp. 56–83. 25. HL, Loudoun papers 2765A, 2764A. 26. J.R.McNeill, Atlantic empires of France and Spain: Louisbourg and Havana, 1700–1763 (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1986). 27. Pritchard, Louis XV’s navy 1748–1762 (Kingston, Ontario, 1987), pp. 184–205. 28. G.Frégault, La guerre de la conquête (Montreal, 1955); G.F.C.Stanley, New France: the last phase, 1744–1760 (Toronto, 1968). 29. J.R.McNeill. The ecological basis of warfare in the Caribbean, 1700–1804, in Adapting to conditions, ed. Ultee, pp. 26–42; President and Council at Madras to Court of Directors of East India Company, 31 July 1760, IO, H/Misc./96, p. 56 30. Coote’s report on Wandewash, 13 Feb. 1760, IO, H/Misc./95, pp. 552–5. 255

NOTES 31. Campbell Dalrymple to Barrington, 20 Jan. 1762, PRO, WO, 1/19, f. 81. 32. R.Middleton, Naval administration in the age of Pitt and Anson, in The British navy and the use of naval power in the eighteenth century, eds J.Black and P.L.Woodfine (Leicester, 1988), p. 119. 33. Gradish, The manning of the British navy during the Seven Years’ War (London, 1980); Holdernesse to Robert Orme, 14 Oct. 1755, BL, Eg. 3488, f. 99. 34. D.A.Baugh, British naval administration in the age of Walpole (Princeton, New Jersey, 1965); J.Brewer, The sinews of power: war, money and the English state, 1688–1783 (Berkeley, California, 1989), pp. 34–7. 35. Baugh, Naval administration, pp. 347–55; W.S.MacNutt, Why Halifax was founded, Dalhousie Review, 13, 1933, pp. 524–32. 36. Middleton, Naval administration, pp. 123–4. 37. P.K.O’Brien and P.A.Hunt, The rise of a fiscal state in England, 1485–1815, Historical Research, 66, 1993, p. 175.

Chapter 6 1. Dickson, Finance and government under Maria Theresia, II, pp. 351–7. 2. C.S.Leonard, Reform and regicide. The reign of Peter III in Russia (Bloomington, Indiana, 1993), pp. 9–10; Greene to Washington, 3 Dec. 1777, R.Showman (ed.), The papers of General Nathanael Greene II (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1980), p. 235. 3. Houlding, Fit for service, p. 204; Colonel Richard Grenville to George III, 13 Sept. 1782, Murray to Sir Robert Murray Keith, envoy in Vienna, 29 Mar., Barker to Keith, 9 June, Gordon to Keith, 8 Sept. 1787, BL, Add. 70956, 35538–9. 4. C.Ross (ed.), Correspondence of Charles, First Marquis Cornwallis (3 vols, London, 1859) I, p. 212. 5. Liddell Hart, Ghost of Napoleon, p. 19. 6. Dundas, Principles, BL, Add. 27600, f. 44; Gates, Light infantry, pp. 30–31; Duffy, Army of Frederick the Great, pp. 155–6. 7. Charnay (ed.), Guibert, Oeuvres militaires (Paris, 1977). 8. Wilkinson, Rise of General Bonaparte, pp. 48–9, 53–4, 144–9. 9. Ross, Development of the combat division in eighteenth century French armies, French Historical Studies, 1, 1965, pp. 84–94; McNeill, Pursuit of Power, p. 163. 10. Quimby, Background of Napoleonic warfare: the theory of military tactics in eighteenth century France (New York, 1957). 11. D.Chandler, The campaigns of Napoleon (London, 1966), p. 138. 12. S.F.Scott, The response of the royal army to the French Revolution. The role and development of the line army 1787–1793 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 26–32; C.Opitz-Belakhal, Militärreform zwischen Bürokratisierung undAdelsreaktion. Transformationen des französischen Offizierskorps von 1760–1790 (Paris, 1993). 13. M.Leclère, Les reformes de Castries, Revue des Questions Historiques, 128, 1937, pp. 28–62. 14. Sturgill. The French army’s budget in the eighteenth century. A retreat from loyalty, in The French Revolution in culture and society, eds D.G.Troyansky, A.Cismaru and N.Andrew (Westport, Connecticut, 1991), pp. 125, 127, 132. 15. T.E.Hall, France and the eighteenth-century Corsican question (New York, 1971), pp. 187–204. 256

NOTES 16. C.Duffy, Russia’s military way to the west (London, 1981), pp. 173–8; V.Aksan, The one-eyed fighting the blind: mobilization, supply, and command in the RussoTurkish war of 1768–1774, International History Review, 15, 1993, pp. 221–38. 17. Bedford, CRO, L30/14/314. 18. Higginbotham, The early American way of war: reconnaissance and appraisal, William and Mary Quarterly, 44, 1987, pp. 230–73; Dederer, War in America to 1775; F.Anderson, A people’s army: Massachusetts soldiers and society in the Seven Years’War (Chapel Hill, N.Carolina, 1984). 19. J.Huston, Logistics of liberty. American services of supply in the revolutionary war and after (Newark, New Jersey, 1991); J.Shy, Logistical crisis and the American Revolution, in Feeding Mars, ed. Lynn, pp. 161–79. 20. Greene to General Thomas Sumter, 30 Mar. 1781, Library of Congress, Washington, Sumter papers. 21. R.Atwood, The Hessians. Mercenaries from Hessen-Kassel in the American Revolution (Cambridge, 1980), p. 68. 22. Clinton’s notes, BL, Add. 3441, if. 155–6. 23. Black, War for America. 24. H.H.Peckham (ed.), The toll of independence. Engagements and battle casualties of the American Revolution (Chicago, 1974), pp. 130–3. 25. W.S.Coker and R.Rea (eds.), Anglo-Spanish confrontation on the Gulf coast during the American Revolution (Pensacola, 1982). 26. D.Gregory, Minorca, the illusory prize. A history of the British occupations of Minorca between 1708 and 1802 (London, 1990), pp. 182–95. 27. A.T.Patterson, The other armada. The Franco-Spanish attempt to invade Britain in 1779 (Manchester, 1960). 28. Coote to Macartney, 1 May 1782, BL, Add. 22440, f. 16; R.Cavaliero, Admiral Satan. Suffren’s naval campaigns in the Indies (London, 1993). 29. P.Longworth, The art of victory. The life and achievements of Field-Marshal Suvorov (London, 1965), p. 174. 30. J.Glete, The foreign policy of Gustavus III and the navy as an instrument of that policy, in The war of King Gustavus III and naval battles of Routsinsalmi (Kotka, Finland, 1993), pp. 5–12. 31. Balisch, Infantry battlefield tactics in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Studies in History and Politics, 3, 1983–4, pp. 52–9. 32. Ainslie to Grenville, 10Apr., 10 Aug., 1792, 25 May 1793, PRO, FO, 78/13 ff. 15, 146, 787 14, f. 135; S.J.Shaw, The origins of Ottoman military reform: the Nizam-i Cedid army of Sultan Selim III, Journal of Modern History, 3, 1965, pp. 291–5; A.W.Fisher, The Russian annexation of the Crimea 1772–1783 (Cambridge, 1970), pp. 86–8, 117.

Chapter 7 1. Scott, Response of the royal army to the French Revolution (Oxford, 1978). 2. Lynn, The bayonets of the republic. Motivation and tactics in the army of Revolutionary France 1791–94 (Urbana, 1984), pp. 4–6; Atlas de la Revolution franchise, III, 49–50. 3. Jenkinson to his father, Lord Hawkesbury, 25 July 1792, BB, 37, f. 62. 4. A.Chuquet, Les guerres de la revolution I. La première invasion Prussienne (Paris, 1886). 257

NOTES 5. Auckland to Morton Eden, 10, 31 Aug. 1792, BL, Add. 24444, ff. 55, 169, 179. Many British officers wrote exactly this sort of thing during the American Revolution. 6. Reports by John Money, BL, Add. 59279, ff. 29–34; J-P.Bertaud, Valmy, la démocratie en armes (Paris, 1970); E.Hublot, Valmy on la defense de la nation par les armes (Paris, 1987); Lynn,Valmy, Military History Quarterly, 51, 1992, pp. 88–97. 7. Court and Cabinets, II, p. 230. 8. C.de la Jonquiere, La bataille de Jemappes (Paris, 1902), pp. 141–78; Atlas de la revolution française, III, pp. 53, 69. 9. D.Stone, Patriotism and professionalism: the Polish army in the eighteenth century, Studies in History and Politics, 3, 1983–4, pp. 68–9; J.Lukowski, Liberty’s folly. The Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth in the eighteenth century (London, 1991), pp. 257–62. 10. W.S.Cormack, The French navy and the struggle for revolutionary authority: the mutiny of the Brest fleet in 1793, Canadian Journal of History, 27, 1992, pp. 29–45. 11. A.Jones, The art of war in the western world (Oxford, 1989), pp. 324–30; Lynn, Bayonets of the republic, and En avant. The origins of the revolutionary attack, in Tools of war, ed. Lynn, pp. 154–76 (quote p. 156); P.Wetzler, War and subsistence: the Sambre and Meuse army in 1794 (New York, 1985). 12. R.Williams to Marquess of Buckingham, 11 May 1793, BL, Add. 59279, ff. 23–4. 13. Chandler, Campaigns of Napoleon, pp. 142–3; M.Reinhard, Le Grand Carnot (Paris, 1952). 14. A.Forrest, The soldiers of the French Revolution (London, 1990), p. 56. 15. Wilkinson, Rise of General Bonaparte, pp. 70–153; W.G.F.Jackson, Attack in the west. Napoleon’s first campaign re-read today (London, 1953). 16. Mowbray, Remarks on the conduct of opposition during the present Parliament (1798), p. 115. 17. R.W.Unger, The tonnage of Europe’s merchant fleets, The American Neptune, 52, 1992, pp. 258–61. 18. Glete, Navies and nations, p. 377. 19. Elting, Swords around a throne, p. 262. 20. O.Connelly, Blundering to glory. Napoleon’s military campaigns (Wilmington, Delaware, 1987), pp. 1–2; M.Glover, The Napoleonic wars: an illustrated history (New York, 1978), p. 93. Important books on Napoleon include Chandler, The campaigns of Napoleon (London, 1966) and Dictionary of the Napoleonic wars (London, 1979), and Rothenburg, Art of warfare in the age of Napoleon (London, 1978). 21. C.Duffy, Austerlitz (London, 1977). 22. K.von Clausewitz, The campaign of 1812 (1843). 23. A.E.Turner, The retreat from Moscow and the crossing of the Berezina (Woolwich, 1898); M. Raeff(ed.), The diary of a Napoleonic foot soldier (London, 1991) offers an excellent account. 24. Lowe to Colonel Bunbury, 20 Oct. 1813, BL, Add. 37051, ff. 157, 162. 25. J.P.Lawford, Napoleon: the last campaigns, 1813–1815 (London, 1977). 26. Lieutenant-General John Murray to Wellington, 23 June 1813, PRO, WO, 1/259, p. 88; Esdaile, The Spanish army in the Peninsular War (Manchester, 1988), and The British army and the guerrilla war in Spain, in The road to Waterloo, ed. Guy, pp. 132–41, and Wellington and the Spanish guerrillas: the campaign of 1813, Consortium on Revolutionary Europe. Proceedings (London, 1991), pp. 298–306; D.Chandler, Wellington at war: regular and irregular warfare, International History Review, 11, 1989, p. 9. 27. D.Gates, The Spanish ulcer. A history of the Peninsular War (London, 1986), pp. 21, 24, 39. 28. C.Esdaile, The Duke ofWellington and the command of the Spanish army, 1812–1814 (London, 1990). 29. Hughes, Firepower, p. 126; S.Bull, An historical guide to arms and armor (London, 1991), p. 131. 258

NOTES 30. Murray to Wellington, 23 June 1813, PRO, WO., 1/259, p. 88. 31. PRO, WO. 6/35, pp. 118–19, 5, 17, 331, 54–9, 75–9; C.D.Hall, British strategy in the Napoleonic war 1803–15 (Manchester, 1992), pp. 20–21. 32. M.Duffy, British diplomacy and the French wars 1789–1815, and O’Brien, Public finance in the wars with France 1793–1815, in Britain and the French Revolution 1789– 1815, ed. H.T.Dickinson (London, 1989), pp. 139, 142, 165–87, 270; J.M.Sherwig, Guineas and gunpowder. British foreign aid in the wars with France, 1793–1815 (Cambridge, Mass., 1969); Anon, memorandum, Reflexions sur quelques imputations dirigées centre l’Angleterre, Vienna, Haus-, Hof-, und Staatsarchiv, Staatskanzlei, England, Varia 13. 33. Chandler, Waterloo. The hundred days (London, 1980), pp. 81–2. 34. C.Hibbert (ed.), The Wheatley diary (London, 1964), p. 65. 35. Moore to his father, 25 Mar. 1801, BL, Add. 59281, ff. 74–5. 36. R.Cobb, The people’s armies (New Haven, Connecticut, 1987). 37. Bertaud, Army of the French Revolution (Princeton, New Jersey, 1988), p. 231. 38. Moore diary, BL, Add. 57324, pp. 26–7. 39. S.J.Woolf, Napoleon’s integration of Europe (London, 1991), pp. 230–5. 40. Grey to Duke of York, 31 Oct. 1793, Durham University, papers of 1st Earl Grey, no. 162. 41. G.Gautherot, La Revolution française dans l’ancien Evêché de Bâle (2 vols, Paris, 1907) I. 42. Lieutenant Henry Slessor to Sir William Sidney Smith, 20 July, Smith to Collingwood, 17 Aug. 1806, BL, Add. 40097, ff. 79, 86; M.C.Finley, The most monstrous of wars: suppression of Calabrian brigandage, Consortium on Revolutionary Europe Proceedings 1989, pp. 251–61. 43. Esdaile, Wellington and Spanish guerrillas, p. 301; Britain: Thomas, Lord Pelham, Further considerations on the plan for a general enrolment of the people, 2 July 1803, Sicily: General Acton to Admiral Collingwood, 13 June 1806, BL, Add. 33120, f. 135, 40097, f. 56. 44. State of Forces in Great Britain, Feb. 1798, BL, Add. 59281, f. 15; Invasion memorandum by David Dundas, Oct. 1796, BL, Add. 59280, ff. 189–90; L.J.Colley, Britons. Forging the nation 1707–1837 (New Haven, Connecticut, 1992), pp. 288–319. 45. Major-General Brock to Earl of Liverpool, Prime Minister, 25 May 1812, BL, Bathurst papers 57/21, f. 82. 46. C.Esdaile, The Napoleonic period: some thoughts on recent historiography, European History Quarterly, 23, 1993, p. 427. 47. Christie’s sale, 29 May 1986, item 60. 48. Smaldone, Warfare in the Sokoto caliphate, pp. 26–37. 49. I.de Madariaga, Russia in the age of Catherine the Great (London, 1981), pp. 248–9. 50. Moore diary, BL, Add. 57326, f. 11. 51. Fletcher, The waters of oblivion. The British invasion of the Rio de la Plata, 1806–1807 (Tunbridge Wells, 1991); J.Archer, General Whitelocke—vanquished at Buenos Aires in 1807, British Army Review, 104, August 1993, pp. 37–44. 52. J.Lynch, The Spanish American revolutions 1808–1826 (2nd edn, London, 1973), esp. pp. 122–3, 169, 119–20. 53. The comparison of warfare in 1660–1815 with classical campaigns was frequent during the period and continued subsequently as in Hans Delbrück’s Die Strategic des Perikles, erläutert durch die Strategie Friedrichs des Grossen (The strategy of Pericles clarified by the strategy of Frederick the Great) of 1890. 54. Glete, Navies, pp. 402, 405. Glete s figures employ a different system of measurement from that traditionally used and the tonnages are therefore higher by 500–750 tons than normally given. 259

NOTES 55. British naval documents, pp. 509–11; Philip, Fulton, p. 302. 56. P.Paret, Yorck and the era of Prussian reform, 1807–1815 (Princeton, New Jersey, 1966), p. 208, and Understanding war, pp. 16–17. 57. Pivka, Armies of the Napoleonic era, p. 13. 58. C.Duffy, The Military experience in the age of reason (London, 1987), p. 17; 2nd Duke of Wellington (ed.), Supplementary despatches and memoranda of Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington (1858–72), x, p. 602. 59. J.Herold, Napoleon in Egypt (London, 1961); M.Barthorp, Napoleon’s Egyptian campaigns, 1798–1799 (London, 1978). 60. Hutchinson memorandum, 22 Nov. 1806, BL, Add. 59282, ff. 76–81. 61. J.Weller, Wellington in India (London, 1972), p. 192. 62. R.G. S.Cooper, Wellington and the Marathas in 1809, International History Review, 11, 1989, pp. 36–8. 63. Weller, Wellington, pp. 275–6. 64. Callahan, The East India Company and army reform, pp. 2, 6, 14–15; Cornwallis to his successor as Governor-General, John Shore, 15 Oct., 27 Sept. 1787, PRO, 30/11/ 165, ff. 56, 42; Urquhart to Grenville, 27 Jan. 1807, BL, Add. 59282, f. 156. 65. Bayly, Imperial meridian. The British empire and the world 1780–1830 (Harlow, 1989), p. 253 and passim, and also his Indian society and the making of the British empire (Cambridge, 1988); P.Lawson, The East India Company (Harlow, 1993), pp. 134–7. 66. P.Carey (ed.), The British in Java, 1811–1816: A Javanese account (Oxford, 1992), p. 17. 67. Koehler to James Bland Burges, Under Secretary in British Foreign Office, 21 Apr. 1792, Koehler, memorandum, Present military state of the Ottoman Empire, Bodl. BB, 36, ff. 99–160; Koehler to Burges, 10 Jan. 1793, PRO, FO, 78/14, f. 7. 68. BB, 41, f. 70; Smith to Burges, 22 Feb., Ainslie to Grenville, 10 May 1793, PRO, FO, 78/ 14, ff. 23, 130–31. 69. Monro, memorandum, BB, 67, pp. 1, 5, 40–1; Ainslie to Grenville, 26 Mar. 1793, PRO, FO, 78/14, ff. 38, 79–80. 70. Etches draft plan [1789], BB, 55, p. 4, 56, f. 31. 71. R.C.Anderson, Naval wars in the Levant, 1559–1853 (Liverpool, 1952), p. 442. 72. J.W.Strong, Russia’s plans for an invasion of India in 1801, Canadian Slavonic Papers, 7, 1965, pp. 114–26. 73. Elting, Amateurs, to arms! A military history of the war of 1812 (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1991), pp. 304–9. 74. P.D.Nelson, Anthony Wayne’s Indian war in the old northwest, 1792–1795, Northwest Ohio Quarterly, 56, 1984, pp. 115–40. 75. J.Tackle to Earl Bathurst, Secretary for War and Colonies, 24 Nov. 1812, BL, Bathurst papers 57/21, f. 53. 76. Moore to his father, 16 Mar. 1801, BL, Add. 59281, f. 69. 77. N.E.Saul, Russia and the Mediterranean, 1797–1807 (Chicago, 1970). 78. J.C.K.Daly, Russian seapower and “the Eastern question”, 1827–41 (London, 1991). 79. P.W.Schroeder, Did the Vienna settlement rest on a balance of power? American Historical Review, 97, 1992, pp. 683–706.

260

NOTES

Chapter 8 1. M.P.Gutmann, War and rural life in the early modern Low Countries (Princeton, New Jersey, 1980), pp. 70–1. 2. D.W.Miller (ed.), Peep O’Day boys and defenders. Selected documents on the disturbances in County Armagh, 1784–1796 (Belfast, 1990), p. 118. 3. Childs, British army of William III, p. 178. 4. J.B.Wolf, Louis XIV (London, 1968), pp. 203, 220–2, 239–43, 460. 5. Wauchope, Sarsfield and the Williamite war, p. 113; Childs, Nine Years’ War and the British army, p. 169. 6. Symcox, Victor Amadeus II, p. 75; Englund, Poltava, pp. 74, 181. 7. BL, Add. 71172, f. 27. 8. D.Chandler (ed.), Napoleon’s marshals (London, 1987), pp. xxxviii-xxxix. 9. Butler, Choiseul, p. 319. 10. Sonnino, Louis XIV and the origins of the Dutch War (Cambridge, 1988), p. 64; Ingrao, The Hessian mercenary state. Ideas, institutions and reform under Frederick II 1760–1785 (Cambridge, 1987), p. 129. 11. P.Mansel, Monarchy, uniform and the rise of the Frac 1760–1830, Past and Present, 96, 1982, pp. 103–32. 12. G.Cozzi, M.Knapton and G.Scarabello, La Repubblica di Venezia nell’età moderna: dal 1517 alla fine della Repubblica (Turin, 1992), p. 127. 13. Roberts, Swedish imperial experience, pp. 60–1, and The age of liberty. Sweden 1719– 1772 (Cambridge, 1986), p. 75. 14. C.Esdaile, Wellington and the Spanish army: 1812: the revolt of General Ballesteros, Consortium on Revolutionary Europe. Proceedings, 1987, p. 81. 15. Lukowski, Liberty’s Folly, pp. 109–12. 16. A useful introduction is provided by Tallett, War and society, pp. 69–104. 17. H.Minchin to Amherst, 9 Sept. 1779 and draft answer, PRO, WO, 34/118, ff. 95–6. 18. J.S.Bromley (ed.), The Manning of the Royal navy. Selected public pamphlets 1693–1873 (London, 1974); B.Lavery, Nelson’s navy. The ships, men and organisation 1793–1815 (London, 1989), pp. 117–22. 19. Marshal Richelieu to Marquis d’Argenson, 15 Jan. 1747, Paris, Bibliothèque Victor Cousin, Fonds de Richelieu 40, f. 147; Duke of Zweibrücken to Wernike, agent in Paris, 12 May 1743, Munich, Hauptstaatsarchiv, Gesandtschaften, Paris 216. 20. A.Cabantous, La vergue et les fers. Mutins et déserteurs dans la marine d’ancien régime (Paris, 1984). 21. L. and M.Frey, Frederick I (Boulder, Colorado, 1984), pp. 171–2. 22. Pinter, Russia as a great power, p. 9; Kroener, Armee und Staat, in Panorama der Fridericianischen Zeit, ed. J.Ziechmann (Bremen, 1985), p. 393; Wilson, War, state and society inWürttemberg, 1677–1770, Ph.D. thesis (Cambridge University, 1990), pp. 62–73. 23. Roberts, Swedish imperial experience, p. 141. 24. Roberts, Age of liberty, p. 22. 25. J.Glete, Sails and Oars. Warships and navies in the Baltic during the eighteenth century (1700–1815), in Les marines de guerre Européennes XVII-XVIII siècles, eds Acerra, Merino and Meyer (Paris, 1985), p. 174. 26. Ingrao, Hessian mercenary state, pp. 132–5; P.K.Taylor, Indentured to liberty. Peasant life and the Hessian military state, 1688–1815 (Ithaca, New York, 1994). 261

NOTES 27. J.Komlos, Nutrition and economic development in the eighteenth-century Habsburg monarchy (Princeton, New Jersey, 1989), pp. 225–8. 28. Lynch, Bourbon Spain 1700–1808 (Oxford, 1989), pp. 123–4, 308–10; Thomas Tyrwhitt to Lieutenant-Colonel Rifane, 1 Jan. 1757, PRO, WO, 4/53, p. 18. 29. Kennett, French armies, 78–9. 30. J.C.Riley, The Seven Years’ War and the old regime in France: The economic and financial toll (Princeton, New Jersey, 1987), pp. 78–9. 31. Riley, ibid., p. 103. 32. Corvisier, L’Armée française de la fin du XVIIe siècle au ministère de Choiseul (2 vols, Paris, 1964), I, pp. 220–1, 229. 33. A.Forrest, Conscripts and deserters. The army and French society during the Revolution and empire (London, 1989). 34. I.Woloch, Napoleonic conscription: state power and civil society, Past and Present, 111, 1986; S.Woolf, Napoleon’s integration of Europe (London, 1991), p. 171. 35. G.A.Smith, “For the purposes of defense”: Thomas Jefferson’s naval militia, The American Neptune, 53, 1993, pp. 34–7. 36. Keegan, History of warfare, p. 343. 37. R.A.Houston. The military and Edinburgh society, 1660–1760, War and Society, 11, 1993, pp. 41–56. 38. Houlding, Fit for service, p. 52. 39. T.Bartlett, Army and society in eighteenth-century Ireland, in Kings in conflict, ed. Maguire, pp. 175–6. 40. J.P.C.M.Van Hoof, The army from 1795 to 1813, in Je maintiendrai, eds Kamphuis et al., p. 38. 41. Baugh, Naval administration, p. 229. 42. G.Dening, Mr. Bligh’s bad language: passion, power and theatre on the Bounty (Cambridge, 1992), p. 28. 43. J.P.Bois, Les anciens soldats retires a Angers a la fin de l’ancien régime, Actes du 103e Congrès National des Sociétés Savantes…histoire moderne, I (Paris, 1979), pp. 135–53, Les anciens soldats de 1715 à 1815. Problèmes et méthodes, Revue Historique, 265, 1981, pp. 81–102, and Les soldats invalides au XVIIIème siècle. Perspectives nouvelles, Histoire, Economic et Sociale, 2, 1982, pp. 237–58. 44. M.Leclère, Les reformes de Castries, Revue des Questions Historiques, 128, 1937, pp. 28–62. 45. C.Duffy, The military life of Frederick the Great (London, 1986), p. 335. 46. R.L.Blanco, Wellington’s surgeon-general Sir James McGrigor (Durham, North Carolina, 1974), pp. 90–136; K.J.Carpenter, The history of scurvy and vitamin C (Cambridge, 1986). 47. S.Loriga, Soldats: un laboratoire disciplinaire: L’armée piédmontese au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1991). 48. Gawthrop, Pietism and the making of eighteenth-century Prussia, p. 228. 49. Rodger, The wooden world, pp. 205–51, 344–5. 50. Martin to Duke of Richmond, 19 Aug. 1748, Goodwood, Mss. 107 no. 685. 51. Fawcett to James Lister, 24 Oct. 1760, Halifax, Calderdale Archives Dept. SH: 7/ FAW/ 60; Townshend to Earl of Bute, 17 Sept. 1761, Mount Stuart, Bute papers 7/ 23. 52. Keppel, I, 300. 53. Ligonier to Cumberland, 24 July 1746, Windsor Castle, Cumberland Papers 17/252. 54. Fawcett to Lister, 24 Oct. 1760, Halifax SH: 7/FAW/60. 262

NOTES 55. Sackville to Holdernesse, 10 Sept. 1758, BL, Eg. 3444, f. 66; Fawcett to Lister, 5 Dec. 1759, Halifax SH: 7/FAW/58. 56. A.Starkey, War and culture, a case study: the enlightenment and the conduct of the British army in America, 1755–1781, War and Society, 8, 1990, p. 22; Lieut. Colonel Charles Russell to wife, 5 July 1743, BL, Add. 69382. 57. Richard to Jeremy Browne, 14 Aug. 1759, BL, RP 3284. 58. P.Joutard, Les Camisards (Paris, 1976); L. and M.Frey, Societies in upheaval. Insurrections in France, Hungary, and Spain in the early eighteenth century (Westport, Connecticut, 1987), pp. 37–60. 59. Berkis, Reign of Duke James in Courland, pp. 140–1. 60. D.D.Horward (ed.), The French campaign in Portugal, 1810–1811. An account by Jean Jacques Pelet (Minneapolis, 1973), pp. 13, 15. 61. Francis, First Peninsular War, p. 247. 62. G.Best, War and Society in Revolutionary Europe, 1770–1870 (London, 1982), pp. 168– 83. 63. Nattrass, Swiss civil war of 1712, p. 17; Francis, Peninsular War, pp. 371–9.

Chapter 9 1. B.Downing, The military revolution and political change. Origins of democracy and autocracy in early modern Europe (Princeton, New Jersey, 1993). 2. J.Brewer, The sinews of power: war, money and the English state, 1688–1783 (London, 1989). 3. BL, Add. 22439, ff. 2, 50, 67, 22440, ff. 12, 16. 4. Macartney to Warren Hastings, 11 July 1781, BL, Add. 22454, f. 6. 5. Macartney to John Macpherson, 27 Nov. 1781, BL, Add. 22456, f. 8. 6. J.Nouzille, Charles V de Lorraine, les Habsbourg et la guerre contre lesTurcs de 1683 a 1687, in Les Habsbourg et la Lorraine, eds J.P.Bled, E.Faucher and R.Taveneaux (Nancy, 1988), p. 112. 7. J.Pallière, Un grand méconnu du XVIIIe siècle: Pierre Bourçet, 1700–1780, Revue Historique desArmées, 1979, pp. 51–66. 8. Houlding, Fit for service, p. 46. 9. H.L.Zwitzer, De militie van den Staat (Amsterdam, 1991), p. 241. 10. Woolf, Napoleon’s integration, pp. 172–3. 11. Pinter, Russia as a great power, pp. 21, 28. 12. I.de Madariaga, Russia in the age of Catherine the Great (London, 1981), pp. 482–3, 486–9. 13. J.P.Merino Navarro, Armada Española, p. 168. 14. J.Langins, The École polytechnique and the French Revolution: merit, militarization, and mathematics, Llull, 13, 1990, pp. 91–105; Rodger, Officers, gentlemen and their education, 1793–1806, in Les empires en guerre et paix 1793–1860 ed. E.Freeman (Vincennes, 1990), pp. 140–1. 15. D.R.Headrick, The tools of empire: technology and European imperialism in the nineteenth century (London, 1981).

263

Select bibliography

It is difficult to choose from among the wealth of fine studies on the period. For reasons of space, this list is very selective and concentrates on works in English and books as these are more accessible. Details of other relevant material can be found in the bibliographies of the works cited and in the notes of this book.

General works M.S.Anderson, War and society in Europe of the old regime 1618–1789 (London, 1988). G.Best, War and society in Revolutionary Europe, 1770–1870 (London, 1982). J.M.Black, A military revolution? Military change and European society 1550–1800 (London, 1991). J.Childs, Armies and warfare in Europe, 1648–1789 (Manchester, 1982). G.N.Clark, War and society in the seventeenth century (Cambridge, 1958). A.Corvisier, Armies and societies in Europe, 1494–1789 (Bloomington, Indiana, 1979). B.Downing, The military revolution and political change (Princeton, New Jersey, 1992). C.Duffy, The military experience in the age of reason (London, 1987). M.Duffy (ed.), The military revolution and the state (Exeter, 1980). J.Gooch, Armies in Europe (London, 1980). J.M.Hill, Celtic warfare 1595–1763 (London, 1986). M.Howard, War in European history (London, 1976). A.Jones, The art of war in the western world (Oxford, 1987). J.Keegan, A history of warfare (London, 1993). W.H.McNeill, The pursuit of power: technology, armed force and society since A.D. 1000 (Oxford, 1982). G.Parker, The military revolution. Military innovation and the rise of the west, 1500–1800 (Cambridge, 1988). E.Robson. The armed forces and the art of war, in New Cambridge modern history, 7 (London, 1957). 265

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY G.E.Rothenberg, B.K.Király and R.F.Sugar (eds.), East European society and war in the pre-Revolutionary eighteenth century (Boulder, Colorado, 1982). H.Strachen, European armies and the conduct of war (London, 1983). F.Tallett, War and society in early modern Europe 1495–1715 (London, 1992). R.F.Weigley, The age of battles. The quest for decisive warfare from Breitenfeld to Waterloo (Bloomington, Indiana, 1991). J.R.Western, War on a new scale: professionalism in armies, navies and diplomacy, in The eighteenth century, ed. A.Cobban (London, 1969).

Conduct of war A.Balisch, Infantry battlefield tactics in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries on the European and Turkish theatres of war, Studies in History and Politics, 1983–4. D.Chandler, The art of war in the age of Marlborough (London, 1976). M.van Creveld, Supplying war. Logistics from Wallenstein to Patton (Cambridge, 1977). M.van Creveld, Technology and war from 2000 BC to the present (New York, 1989). C.Duffy, The fortress in the age ofVauban and Frederick the Great (London, 1985). B.P.Hughes, Firepower. Weapons’ effectiveness on the battlefield 1630–1850 (London, 1974). B.P.Hughes, Open fire: artillery tactics from Marlborough to Wellington (London, 1983). J.A.Lynn (ed.), Feeding Mars. Logistics in western warfare from the middle ages to the present (Boulder, 1993). B.Nosworthy, The anatomy of victory. Battle tactics 1689–1763 (New York, 1990). R.Quimby, The background of Napoleonic warfare (New York, 1957). S.Ross, From flintlock to rifle. Infantry tactics, 1740–1866 (Rutherford, New Jersey, 1979). G.E.Rothenberg, The art of warfare in the age of Napoleon (Bloomington, Indiana, 1977). R.Wilkinson-Latham, British artillery on land and sea, 1790–1820 (Newton Abbot, 1973).

Naval warfare D.A.Baugh, British naval administration in the age of Walpole (Princeton, New Jersey, 1965). J.M.Black and P.L.Woodfine (eds), The Royal navy and the use of naval power in the eighteenth century (Leicester, 1988). J.R.Bruijn, The Dutch navy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (Columbia, South Carolina, 1993). J.Glete, Navies and nations. Warships, navies and state building in Europe and America, 1500– 1860 (Stockholm, 1993). J.Habron, Trafalgar and the Spanish navy (Annapolis, 1988). D.Howarth, Trafalgar (London, 1969). P.Kennedy, The rise and fall of British naval mastery (London, 1976). B.Lavery, The ship of the line (Annapolis, 1983–4). R.Morriss, The Royal dockyards during the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars (Leicester, 1983). J.Pritchard, Louis XV’s navy 1748–1762 (Montreal, 1987). N.A.M.Rodger, The wooden world. An anatomy of the Georgian navy (London, 1986). 266

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

Armies and warfare 1660–1721 T.M.Barker, Double eagle and crescent: Vienna’s second Trkish Siege (Albany, New York, 1967). D.Chandler, Marlborough as military commander (London, 1973). J.Childs, The Nine Years’War and the British army 1688–97 (Manchester, 1991). C.J.Ekberg, The failure of Louis XIV’s Dutch war (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1979). P.Englund, The Battle of Poltava (London, 1992). A.D.Francis, The first Peninsular War, 1700–1713 (London, 1975). R.M.Hatton, Charles XII of Sweden (London, 1968). J.R.Jones, Marlborough (Cambridge, 1992). J.M.Stoye, The siege of Vienna (London, 1964). C.C.Sturgill, Marshal Villars and the war of the Spanish succession (Lexington, Kentucky, 1965).

Armies and warfare 1721–63 J.M.Black, Culloden and the ’45 (Stroud, 1990). C.Duffy, The army of Frederick the Great (London, 1974). C.Duffy, The military life of Frederick the Great (London, 1985). P.Mackesy, The coward of Minden (London, 1979).

Warfare 1763–1815 J.P.Bertaud, The army of the French Revolution (Cambridge, 1988). J.M.Black, War for America (Stroud, 1991). G.C.Bond, The grand expedition. The British invasion of Holland in 1809 (Athens, Georgia, 1979). D.Chandler, The campaigns of Napoleon (London, 1966). J.R.Cobb, The people’s armies (New Haven, Connecticut, 1987). O.Connelly, Blundering to glory: Napoleon’s military campaigns (Wilmington, Delaware, 1987). C.Duffy, Borodino. Napoleon against Russia (London, 1972). C.Duffy, Austerlitz (London, 1977). M.Duffy, Soldiers, sugar and seapower. The British expeditions to the West Indies and the war against Revolutionary France (Oxford, 1987). J.R.Elting, Swords around a throne: Napoleon’s Grande Armée (NewYork, 1988). C.Esdaile, The Spanish army in the Peninsular War (Manchester, 1988). V.J.Esposito, A military history and atlas of the Napoleonic wars (New York, 1964). S.Fischer-Galati and B.K.Király (eds.), Essays on war and society in east central Europe, 1740– 1920 (Boulder, Colorado, 1987). A.Forrest, Conscripts and deserters. The army and French society during the Revolution and Empire (Oxford, 1989). A.Gat, The origins of military thought: from the Enlightenment to Clausewitz (Oxford, 1989). M.Glover, Wellington’s Peninsular victories (New York, 1963). M.Glover, Peninsular preparation. The reform of the British army, 1795–1809 (London, 1963). M.Glover, Wellington as military commander (London, 1965). 267

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY C.D.Hall, British strategy in the Napoleonic war 1803–15 (Manchester, 1992). D.Higginbotham, The war of American Independence (New York, 1971). J.Keegan, The face of battle: a study of Agincourt, Waterloo and the Somme (London, 1976). P.Longworth, The art of victory…Suvorov (New York, 1965). J.A.Lynn, The bayonets of the republic. Motivation and tactics in the army of Revolutionary France (Urbana, 1984). P.Mackesy, The war in the Mediterranean, 1803–1810 (London, 1957). P.Mackesy, The war for America 1775–1783 (London, 1964). P.Mackesy, Statesmen at war: the strategy of overthrow, 1798–1799 (London, 1974). P.Mackesy, War without victory. The downfall of Pitt, 1799–1802 (Oxford, 1984). P.Paret, Yorck and the era of Prussian reform (Princeton, New Jersey, 1966). P.Paret, Understanding war. Essays on Clausewitz and the history of military power (Princeton, New Jersey, 1992). G.E.Rothenberg, The art of warfare in the age of Napoleon (Bloomington, Indiana, 1978). G.E.Rothenberg, Soldiers and the Revolution: the French army, society and the state, 1788–99, Historical Journal 1989. S.F.Scott, The response of the Royal army to the French Revolution: the role and development of the line army during 1789–93 (Oxford, 1978). D.Stone, Patriotism and professionalism: the Polish army in the eighteenth century, Studies in History and Politics, 1983–4. J.Weller, Wellington in the Peninsula (London, 1967). P.Wctzler, War and subsistence. The Sambre-et-Meuse army in 1794 (Las Vegas, 1985).

Austria T.Barker, Army, aristocracy, monarchy: essays on war, society and government in Austria, 1618– 1780 (Boulder, Colorado, 1982). C.Duffy, The wild goose and the eagle: a life of Marshal von Browne, 1705–1757 (London, 1964). C.Duffy, The army of Maria Theresa (London, 1977). D.McKay, Prince Eugene of Savoy (London, 1977). G.E.Rothenberg, Napoleon’s great adversaries: the Archduke Charles and the Austrian army 1792– 1814 (London, 1982).

Britain J.Brewer, The sinews of power: war, money and the English state, 1688–1783 (London, 1989). D.Gates, The British light infantry arm c. 1790–1815 (London, 1987). A.J.Guy (ed.), The road to Waterloo (Stroud, 1991).

France D.Bien, The army in the French enlightenment: reform, reaction and revolution, Past and Present, 1979. P.Contamine et al., Histoire militaire de la France. I. Des origines à 1715 (Paris, 1992). J.Delmas et al., Histoire militaire de la France. II. De 1715 à 1871 (Paris, 1992). 268

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY L.Kennett, The French armies in the Seven Years’ War (Durham, North Carolina, 1967). S.F.Scott, The response of the Royal army to the French Revolution (Oxford, 1978). I.Woloch, The French veteran front the Revolution to the Restoration (Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1979).

Prussia C.Duffy, The army of Frederick the Great (London, 1974). C.Duffy, Frederick the Great: a military life (London, 1986). D.Showalter, Tactics and recruitment in eighteenth-century Prussia, Studies in History and Politics, 1983–4.

Russia C.J.Duffy, Russia’s military way to the west, origins and nature of Russian military power 1700–1800 (London, 1981). W.C.Fuller, Strategy and power in Russia 1600–1914 (New York, 1992). R.Hellie, The Petrine army: continuity, change and impact, Canadian-American Slavic Studies, 1974 J.L.H.Keep, Soldiers of the Tsar: army and society in Russia, 1462–1872 (Oxford, 1985).

Global context C.A.Bayly, Imperial meridian. The British empire and the world 1780–1830 (Harlow, 1989). C.M.Cipolla, Guns and sails in the early phase of European expansion 1400–1700 (London, 1965). J.M.Dederer, War in America to 1775 (New York, 1990). J.A.Lynn (ed.), Tools of war. Instruments, ideas and institutions of warfare, 1445–1871 (Urbana, 1990). W.H.McNeill, Europe’s steppe frontier 1500–1800 (Chicago, 1964). H.H.Peckham, The colonial wars, 1689–1762 (Chicago, 1964). D.B.Ralston, Importing the European army. The introduction of European military techniques and institutions into the extra-European world, 1600–1914 (Chicago, 1990). S.J.Shaw, Between old and new: the Ottoman empire under Sultan Selim III 1789–1807 (Cambridge, Mass., 1971).

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Index

Abercromby, Sir Ralph 200, 201, 215 Aboukir, battle of 200 Aboukir, second battle of 194, 206 absolutism 4, 6 Acre 172, 199, 206 Albuera, battle of 60 Alexander I, Tsar 190–92, 200 Alexis, Tsar 114, 116 Algiers 18 Almanza, battle of 73, 78, 105, 115 Amberg, battle of 82 America, North 16–18, 20, 21, 25, 29, 30, 142, 164–5, 224 American War of Independence 29–32, 36, 41, 48, 59, 148, 154, 158, 161, 164–5, 172, 174, 180, 194, 196–7, 217, 223, 226, 228, 233, 236 amphibious operations 20, 30, 34, 45, 72, 79, 113, 121–4, 138, 144, 165–6, 177, 182, 191, 208 Anson, George Lord 145 Antwerp 73, 127–8, 171, 214 Arcole, battle of 176, 217 Argaon, battle of 201 artillery 1, 15–18, 21–5, 27, 36, 38, 43–6, 53–9, 61–2, 75–8, 81–4, 92, 98, 101, 105, 107, 115–22, 127, 130, 132–4, 136, 138–43, 148–9, 155, 157, 159, 161, 167, 173–7, 180–81, 186, 189– 91, 193–201, 204–207, 220, 222, 234, 236–7 Aspern-Essling, battle of 186 Assaye, battle of 201

atrocities 231–2 Auerstädt, battle of 183–5 Aughrim, battle of 64, 108 Austerlitz, battle of 185 Australia 30, 32, 165, 180 Austria 9, 12, 14, 32, 35, 40, 64–5, 74, 81–2, 85, 89, 101, 103–104, 109–110, 120–21, 123–4, 129, 131–5, 148–9, 152–5, 165, 169, 176, 185–7, 192, 208, 210, 221–2, 224–5, 232, 235 Austrian Netherlands 27, 73, 82, 93, 103, 121–2, 126–7, 171–2, 174, 176, 224 Azov 17, 115, 123, 157 Babadag, battle of 25, 166 Badajoz 191 Bailen, battle of 186 balloons 53 Bantry Bay, battle of 79 Barfleur, battle of 79, 97, 106–107 barracks 225 Basle, Prince-Bishopric of 172, 194, 223 Bassano, battle of 176 Bassignano, battle of 127 Bautzen, battle of 187 Bavaria 10, 65, 94,98, 102, 111, 124, 132–3, 188, 209, 217, 224, 232, 237 Bavarian War of Succession 71–2, 74, 81, 148, 198 bayonet 7, 15, 26, 33, 38–9, 42, 60, 95, 105, 112, 115, 127, 142, 182, 191, 194, 201, 207 Beachy Head, battle of 79, 107 271

INDEX Belgrade 12–14, 105, 123, 166–7 Belle-Île 34, 56, 138, 211, 229 Belle-Isle, Marshal 124, 129, 154, 215 Beresina, battle of the 187, 191, 231 Berg Harsan, battle of 13 Bergen-op-Zoom 73, 128, 231 Berlin 102, 134–5, 149, 220, 237 Berthier, Marshal 149, 154, 183, 217 Berwick, Marshal 106, 122, 232 Bitonto, battle of 73, 120 Black Sea 25–6, 79, 123, 157, 166 Blenheim, battle of 50, 65, 71, 73–4, 105–106, 111 Blücher, General Gebhard 188, 192 Bohemia 74, 81, 85, 124–5, 133–4, 152– 3, 222, 232, 235 Bonneval, Claude-Alexandre, Comte 22 Borodino, battle of 187 Boscawen, Admiral Edward 79, 137, 141, 145 Bourçet, Pierre 153, 155, 235 Boyne, battle of the 108, 214 Braddock, Major General Edward 139, 140 Brest 8, 55, 80, 97, 108, 110, 126, 137, 140, 145, 169, 180 Brienne, battle of 188 Brihuega, battle of 73, 100, 111 Britain 9, 15, 23–4, 30–32, 55–9, 101– 113, 119–22, 124–6, 131–3, 136–45, 163–5, 169, 176–7, 180–82, 192, 200, 203, 207–209, 235–7 Brussels 127, 129 Bucharest 13, 167 Buda 13 Bunker Hill, battle of 162–3 Burgoyne, General John 42, 163 Burkersdorf, battle of 61, 74 Bussaco, battle of 54 Buxar, battle of 16, 23, 78 Cadiz 72, 110, 120, 131, 190–91 Camaret Bay 113 Camden, battle of 162 Camperdown, battle of 181 Canada 139–42, 158, 164, 195 Cape Finisterre, battle of 79, 129 Cape Passaro, battle of 79–80, 111, 120 Cape Town 180 Carpi, battle of 105 Carnot, Lazare 175–6 Castries, Charles, Marquis de 154, 227

Catherine II, the Great 135, 149, 157, 165, 208, 214, 220 cavalry 50–51, 104, 105, 111–12, 114, 171–2, 201, 203, 226, 236–7 Ceylon 180, 204 Charles XII of Sweden 69, 87, 108, 116, 133, 214, 221 Charles, Archduke of Austria 176, 182, 186 Charles of Lorraine, Prince 75, 125, 128, 130 Charles Albert, Elector of Bavaria 124–5 Charles Edward Stuart 126 Cherbourg 34, 138, 154 Chesmé, battle of 79, 117, 157 China 15, 24, 28, 118, 237 Choiseul, Etienne-François, Duke of 137, 154–5, 215 Chotusitz, battle of 65 Ciudad Rodrigo 189, 191 Clinton, General Sir Henry 29, 161, 162, 163 Clive, Robert 1, 143 Coehoorn, Menno van 128 Colbert, Jean Baptiste 58–9, 97 Condé, Louis II, Prince of 96 Coote, Sir Eyre 25, 69, 84, 143, 164, 234 Copenhagen, battle of 181 Cornea, battle of 40, 57 Cornwallis, Charles, 2nd Earl 24–5, 29– 30, 58, 83, 149, 163–4, 203 Corsica 58, 153, 155–6, 231 Corunna, battle of 189 Cossacks 15, 30, 77, 131, 196, 231 Courland 102, 232 Crimea 17, 123, 157–8, 165–7 Cronstedt, General Carl 44 Culloden, battle of 15, 49, 77, 127–8 Cumberland, William, Duke of 71, 94, 126–8 Custine, General Adam 171 Danzig 121–2, 172 Dardanelles 17, 157, 206 Daun, Field Marshal Leopold 27, 65, 74– 5, 130–31, 136 Denain, battle of 100 Denmark 9, 39, 44, 48, 81, 109, 116, 132, 165, 195, 213 Dettingen, battle of 125, 128, 213–14, 231 discipline 224–8, 230 272

INDEX Golitsyn, Prince Vasily 157, 196 Goree 141, 144 Greene, Nathanael 63, 149, 161 Gribeauval, Jean Baptiste de 45, 154 Gross-Jägersdorf, battle of 65, 134 Guadeloupe 113, 143 Guastalla, battle of 120 Guibert, Jacques, Comte de 72, 153, 198 Guilford, battle of 163 Gustavus III of Sweden 165–6

Dresden 74, 75, 126, 133 Dresden, battle of 62, 187 Duckworth, Sir John 207 Dumouriez, General Charles 171 Dundas, General David 152, 195 Dunkirk 8, 97, 126 Dutch see United Provinces École Militaire 1, 129 Egypt 180, 184, 194, 199–200, 203, 206, 208 Elizabeth, Tsarina 132, 135 Enzheim, battle of 112 Eugene, Prince 14, 22, 73, 100, 104–106, 111, 122, 129–30 Eylau, battle of 62, 183, 185 Falkirk, battle of 51, 127 Farruckhabad, battle of 201 Fawcett, General William 149, 229, 230 Finland 77, 116, 123–4, 166, 208 Fleurus, battle of (1690) 39, 96 Fleurus, battle of (1794) 53, 175–6, 198 flintlocks 15, 23, 33, 39–41, 42, 48, 55, 59, 78, 95, 105, 191 Fokshany, battle of 165 Folard, Chevalier Jean-Charles de 65, 154 Fontenoy, battle of 51, 73, 126, 128, 214 Franche Comté 97 Franklin, Benjamin 49, 50, 59 Frederick II, the Great, of Prussia 26, 29, 61, 64, 68, 69, 71, 73–4, 76, 81, 94, 112, 124, 132–8, 149, 157, 170, 183, 190, 193, 198, 214–16, 219, 221, 226– 7, 235 Frederick William I of Prussia 101–102, 121, 211 Frederick William II of Prussia 153 Frederick William III of Prussia 185, 187, 195 Freiberg, battle of 74, 136 Freiburg 98, 100, 214 Friedland, battle of 62, 185 Fulton, Robert 47, 198 Gálvez, Bernardo de 164 Genoa 127, 155, 209 George II of Britain 124–5, 133, 137 George III of Britain 214–15 Gibbon, Edward 26 Gibraltar 56, 71, 80, 110, 113, 144, 148, 164

Haidar Ali of Mysore 2, 17, 69, 164–5 Hanover 102, 122, 124, 129, 133–4, 137, 148 Haugwitz, Wilhelm, Count von 129 Havana 29, 58, 62, 80, 120, 131, 143–4, 164 Hawke, Admiral Edward 137, 145, 177 health 35, 142–3, 223, 225, 228 Hesse-Cassel 48, 109, 215, 221 Hoche, General Lazare 174 Hochkirch, battle of 75 Hohenfriedberg, battle of 50, 73, 125–6 Hohenlinden, battle of 184 Holkar, Jaswant Rao 201 Howe, Admiral Richard, Earl 180 Howe, General Sir William 31, 159–63 howitzer 44, 57, 62, 136 Hughes, Admiral Sir Edward 2 Hungary 12–5, 20, 77, 103–104, 106, 111, 124, 222, 232, 235 India 1–2, 15–16, 19, 21–4, 69, 78, 83–4, 119, 143, 164, 165, 200–203, 207 Ireland 77, 82, 101, 106–109, 137, 177, 181, 211, 223, 225, 233 Izmail 157, 165–6, 231 Jacobites 15, 36, 64, 77, 101, 107–108, 126–7, 218, 231, 235 James II of England 101, 107, 214 Java 23, 58, 203 Jefferson, Thomas 224 Jemappes, battle of 82, 171 Jena, battle of 62, 172, 185 Jervis, Admiral Sir John 72, 180 Joseph II, Emperor 82, 165, 167, 213, 216, 222, 235 Jourdan, General Jean-Baptiste 174 Kagul, battle of 157 Katzbach, battle of 62, 187, 231

273

INDEX Kehl, battle of 98, 100, 120 Kellermann, General François 184 Kesselsdorf 125 Khotin 123, 157, 167, 205 Killiecrankie, battle of 107–108 Kinburn 165 King’s Mountain, battle of 42, 162 Kjöge, battle of 190 Koehler, George Frederick 204–206 Kolin, battle of 74, 76, 130, 131, 134 Kulm, battle of 187 Kunersdorf, battle of 50, 66, 76, 135–6 Lagos, battle of 79, 137 Lake, General Gerard 201 Landau 97, 98, 100 Laon, battle of 188 Larrey, Dominique 228 Lawfeldt, battle of 73, 74, 128, 214, 215 Lee, Major-General Charles 159 Leipzig, battle of 46, 188, 198 Leswari, battle of 201 Leuthen, battle of 65, 74, 76, 133–4, 136, 149 Leuze, battle of 96 Liechtenstein, Prince Joseph 130 Liège 172, 192 Lille 97–9, 112, 170 Lind, James 35 Lobositz, battle of 133 Lodi, battle of 176 Long Island, battle of 162 Lorient 8, 97 Louis XIV of France 14, 54, 87–8, 95, 97–100, 106–107, 109, 113, 148, 213, 215, 227 Louis XV of France 126, 133, 213, 214 Louisbourg 35, 129, 140–42, 144, 158 Louisiana 27–8, 139, 180 Louvois, François, Marquis de 39, 96 Lowendahl, Count Ulrich 128 Lützen, battle of 172, 187 Luxembourg, François, Duke of 96 Luzzara, battle of 73 Maastricht 99, 128, 129 Machin, battle of 25, 165, 166 Maciejowice, battle of 173 Maida, battle of 194 Malaga, battle of 79–80 Malplaquet, battle of 74, 105–106, 111–12 Manila 30, 80, 144

mapping 63, 154, 235 Marathas 1, 17, 19, 24–5, 57, 78, 201 Marengo, battle of 183–4 Maritz, Johann 44, 52, 59 Marlborough, John, 1st Duke of 34, 98, 100, 106, 108, 111–13, 129 Martinique 80, 113, 143–4, 180 Martinishtje, battle of 165 Massena, Marshal André 190, 232 Mazepa, hetman of the Ukraine 211 Mehadia, battle of 57, 167 Mesnil-Durand, Baron François-Jean de 154 Minden, battle of 51, 60, 137, 153, 231 Minorca 79, 110, 113, 136, 164 Mollwitz, battle of 65, 73, 124, 214 Mondovi, battle of 176 Mons 96, 99, 127 Montecuccoli, Count Raimondo 13, 65, 100, 104–105 Moore, General Sir John 189, 194, 196, 215 Moreau, General Jean 184 Münnich, General Burkhardt von 122–3 Murat, Marshal Joachim 224 Mysore 2, 17, 24–5, 69, 78, 83, 201 Namur 96, 99, 112, 128, 171, 214 Naples 80–81, 103, 194, 236 Napoleon 35, 48, 57, 62, 101, 153, 155, 172–90, 192–4, 196, 198–200, 207– 208, 215–17, 224, 237 Narva, battle of 108, 114, 116–17 Neerwinden, battle of (1693) 96, 214 Neerwinden, battle of (1793) 82, 174 Nelson, Admiral Horatio 34, 181, 184, 215 New Orleans, battle of 197, 207 Nile, battle of the 180–181 Novi, battle of 182 oblique order 64–6, 119, 136 Ochakov 26, 123, 165–6 Olmütz 76 Oman 2, 18, 20 Orthez, battle of 189, 215 Oudenaarde, battle of 73–4, 105–106, 111, 126 Paltzig, battle of 66, 135 Parker, Geoffrey viii, 5, 7, 11, 32, 74, 95, 102 274

INDEX Parma, battle of 120 Patino, José 120 Patna, battle of 16, 23, 78 Paul I, Tsar 207 pensions 226 percussion cap 60 Peter I, the Great, Tsar 8, 17, 19, 58, 87, 105, 113, 116–17, 168, 208, 212, 214 Peterwardein, battle of 14, 105 Philip V of Spain 85, 103, 109, 111, 214 Philippsburg 98, 120, 122 Piacenza, battle of 73, 127 pike 38–9, 50 Plassey, battle of 23, 78, 128, 143 Plymouth 31, 56, 110, 198 Poland 12, 14, 26, 81, 87–8, 101–102, 105, 114, 165, 172–3, 208, 214, 217, 232–3 Poltava, battle of 69, 73–4, 81, 116–17, 214 Pondicherry 58, 142–4 Pontiac’s Rising 16 Portsmouth 31, 33, 54, 56, 110, 137, 216, 237 Portugal 3, 9, 18, 36, 88, 109–10, 121, 138, 144, 185–6, 189, 191–2, 195, 213–14, 218, 224, 232 Potemkin, Prince Grigory 166 Prague 125, 134 Prague, battle of 74–75, 135–6, 152, 198 Prestonpans, battle of 64, 126–7 Pringle, John 228 prisoners 231 Prussia 9–10, 32, 39, 64–6, 81, 101–102, 119, 124–6, 129, 131–5, 149, 152–3, 176, 185–7, 192, 210–11, 215, 220– 23, 233, 237 Pruth, battle of the 115–17 Pugachev Rising 196 Pyramids, battle of the 199 Quatre Bras, battle of 192 Quebec 49, 113, 140–42, 144–5, 164, 215 Quiberon Bay, battle of 79, 137 Raclawice, battle of 173 Ramillies, battle of 65, 73–4, 111 recruitment 217–24 Reichenbach, battle of 74 Richelieu, Louis, Marshal-Duke of 129, 136

rifle 41–3 Rivoli, battle of 176 roads 30, 36–7 Roberts, Michael 3–7, 9, 32, 89, 95, 102– 103, 234 Rochefort 8, 97, 138 rockets 38, 45–6 Rodney, Admiral George 145, 228 Rossbach, battle of 50, 76–7, 129, 133–5, 152–3, 226 Roucoux, battle of 73–4, 128 Rumford, Count Benjamin 212, 226 Rumyantsev, Count Peter 157 Russia 8–9, 19–20, 25–6, 30, 32, 73, 81, 101, 113–18, 120–23, 132–5, 157–8, 165–6, 185–7, 190–92, 196, 204, 208– 209, 212, 220–21, 223, 235, 236 Sahay, battle of 215 St. Augustine 113 St. Gotthard, battle of 104, 182 St. Paul, Colonel Horace 65, 74–6 St. Vincent 31–2 St. Vincent, battle of Cape 180 Saints, battle of the 44, 59, 79, 165 Salamanca, battle of 189–90 Sassbach, battle of 215 Savoy-Piedmont 9–10, 101–102, 127 Saxe, Count Herman Maurice de, Marshal 27, 36, 50, 98, 126–9, 198, 215 Saxony 10, 74, 102, 124–5, 132–3, 135, 188, 214, 219 Scharnhorst, General Gerhard von 191, 195, 215 Schoonevelt, battle of 79 Schweidnitz 134–5 Sedgemoor, battle of 232 Selim III, Sultan 167, 204, 206 semaphore 54 Seppings, Robert 197–8 Serbia 14, 123, 166–7, 195, 233 Seringapatam 45, 78, 84, 201 Shrapnel, Henry 53 Shuvalov, General Peter 129 Siberia 17, 117 Silesia 73–4, 124, 128, 132–5, 152, 221, 235 Slatina, battle of 167 Smith, Sir William Sidney, also known as Sir Sidney 25, 199–200, 205–206 Sobieski, John, King of Poland 105, 214 275

INDEX Soor, battle of 50, 125–6 Sorauren, battle of 198 Soult, Marshal Nicholas 189, 198 Spain 3, 7, 9, 28–9, 31, 98–100, 102, 109–111, 120–21, 131–3, 175–7, 185– 6, 189–91, 213–14, 216–17, 222–3, 232–3 steamships 47, 48, 51 Steenkirk, battle of 68, 96, 214 Stockach, battle of 182 submarine 46–8 Suvorov, General Alexander 25–6, 149, 165, 182 Svensksund, battle of 79 Sweden 3, 8–10, 69, 77, 93, 101–102, 114–17, 123, 132–5, 152, 165–6, 208, 213, 216–17, 221, 232 Switzerland 223, 232 Szczekociny, battle of 173 Talavera, battle of 189 Tatars 26, 77, 114, 123 Tatischchevo, battle of 77, 196 technology 2, 8, 28, 33, 44, 54–7, 77–80, 237 Texel, battle of 79 Ticonderoga 141–2 Tipu Sultan 25, 78, 83, 201 Torgau, battle of 136, 214 Tott, Baron François de 22 Toulon, battle of 79, 129 Toulouse, battle of 189 Trafalgar, battle of 47, 181 training 236–7 Trebbia, battle of 182 Turenne, Henri, Viscount of, Marshal 96, 100, 105, 213, 215 Turin, battle of 65, 73, 80, 105–106, 214 Turkey 13–14, 22, 81, 102, 117, 123, 165, 200, 204–205, 216, 237 Turnhout, battle of 82 Ukraine 12, 30, 88, 220

Ulm, battle of 185 United Provinces (Dutch) 3, 7–8, 23, 56, 87, 94, 97, 102, 110, 132, 176, 210, 213, 229, 235 Ushant, battle of 79 Valmy, battle of 82, 152, 171–2 Vauban, Sébastien Le Prestre de 97–9 Victor Amadeus II of Savoy-Piedmont 102, 109, 214 Vienna 11–13, 185–6 Vietnam 24, 84 Villars, Marshal Claude 100, 106 Vimeiro, battle of 186, 190 Virginia Capes, battle of 79, 80 Vitoria, battle of 189–91, 198 Wade, Field-Marshal George 69, 212 Wagram, battle of 62, 183, 186, 198 Walcheren 177, 227–8 Wandewash, battle of 143 War of 1812 47, 182, 189, 207 Warburg, battle of 50 Washington, George 47, 50, 139, 149, 161–3, 182 Waterloo, battle of 54, 170, 192–4, 198 Wattignies, battle of 174 Wayne, General Anthony 207 Wellesley, Sir Arthur see Wellington, Duke of Wellington, Duke of 36, 54, 57, 186, 189–93, 195, 198, 201, 215 Wiener-Neustadt, Academy 130 William III of Britain 68, 96, 101, 107– 109, 121, 214 Württemberg 102, 188, 217 York, Frederick, Duke of 149 Yorktown, battle of 29–30, 153, 161, 164 Zalánkemén 14 Zenta, battle of 14, 105 Zorndorf, battle of 66, 134–5é

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